


Ears and Tails

by Crescent_Moon_Demon



Series: Kittycons and Autodogs universe [2]
Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Gen, Heat Cycles, Incest, Kittycon/Autodog verse, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Romance, Size Difference, Slash, Slice of Life, Sparklings, Sticky, Teen Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:05:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 50
Words: 168,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3356966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crescent_Moon_Demon/pseuds/Crescent_Moon_Demon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For every story, there are several inbetween stories. Your favourite autodogs and kittycons come to share their own adventures in this collection! Tie-in to "With Perfect Abandonment"; multiple ratings within.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**C.M.D: As with any work, sometimes I get inspired to keep exploring different characters and their lives within the same realm. Such is the result of this spin-off and the number of characters within. Every chapter title declares the characters featured within, with ratings and tags included, and though its not essential to read every chapter, do note that a lot of character stories tie in to each other. Originally posted on FF.net  
  
Chapter 1: Perceptor  
Rating: PG  
  
** Life was full of mistakes.  
  
Painful, degrading, self-destroying mistakes.  
  
This was one of them.  
  
Perceptor sat by himself in the darkness, subdued light from the streetlights outside peeking into the room, but breaching no further than an inch or so into the dark space; still meters away from where the Autodog sat on the berth, surrounded by shadows. Not that Perceptor really noticed- his optics were glazed over, servo distractedly stroking the bulge under his nightshirt.  
  
 _“Oh, I remember you. Perceptor, right?”  
  
_ A grey ear flicked at the phantasmal voice, servo falling into a pause. Beneath his resting palm there was movement, a thump that pushed against his fuel tank walls and up into his servo. The pressure made his spark tighten in his chassis; whirling and stuttering about in rapid, disjointed pulses. And again, the vocalizer returned, whispering into his ears mockingly.  
  
 _“C'mon, lil' pup. It'll be good, I swear.”_  
  
It was one stupid party.... his first. And it was the biggest mistake of his life.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  


When Wheeljack returned to his dorm room, Perceptor was crying.  
  
He knew it as soon as he had opened the door because of how silent it was. The red and grey Autodog had a strange way of weeping: he never wailed, he never cursed, he never _even made a sound_. But entering his room, Wheeljack could easily see that the younger scientist was in great pain. Like every other time before, Perceptor had one servo circling his swollen middle; the other servo pressed against his glasses so hard that they would leave jagged marks on his faceplates tomorrow along with his red-rimmed optics. And with them, the waterfall of coolant pouring from his optics, and a bloody lip component as it was gnawed deeply between dental plates.  
  
Cautiously, the white Autodog moved forward into the dark room, kneeling at his roommate's berthside. “Percy.....?,” Wheeljack called softly. Perceptor didn't respond, as was normal, and Wheeljack could only rest one servo on the youngling's shoulder, the other clenched uncertainly at his side.  
  
He remembered that night well -it was one of the few that he had decided to refrain from drinking high-grade with the others, because he had invited Perceptor along. He had been crushing on the younger Autodog, and was still very much in love with him even now, and had thought that interactions between them outside of class might push their relationship forward. What Wheeljack hadn't been counting on was for Starscream -slutty, mouthy little glitch of a Kittycon- to be there as well. And for him to have his optic on Perceptor. With a flirtatious crook of his claw and some sinfully tempting words, the red and grey Autodog was led away from the rest of the party, where Starscream then interfaced with the younger student and ditched him callously afterwards. But not before making it public to the rest of the partying Autodogs and Kittycons that little Perceptor had been “deflowered” and wasn't worth anyone's time now since he was hopelessly in love with the magenta seeker.  
  
Pointless, because everyone knew that Starscream was a moody whore with no beating spark beneath his cockpit.  
  
But that wasn't the last of Perceptor's humiliation. Beside having shared his first interface with Starscream, his feelings were then rejected, other mechs tried to force the youngling into a one-night berth romp; his social standing fell into one of a closed-valve whore, and the really worst bit out of all this..... Perceptor was pregnant.  
  
Wheeljack had been in the room when the smaller Autodog had found out. His immediate reply had been to have the thing deleted before it could get to protoform stage. Perceptor only stared at him incredulously, before all emotion was wiped from the student's faceplates.  
  
“No,” was all Perceptor had said, and Wheeljack could not fight with that. It was more than arguing with a mech whose beliefs lied in giving every life a chance; it was the fact that if he forced Perceptor to do this, then Wheeljack knew he'd be crushing the last of the other Autodog's spark. And already the youngling seemed so dead to him.... So, despite his protests, Perceptor had kept the budding spark; suffering further ridicule and abuse from their classmates.  
  
“....why....?”  
  
The quiet, little whimper -so quiet it could easily be mistaken for the slightest of intakes- escaped the red and grey Autodog, drawing Wheeljack's attention. His worried blue optics focused on his roommate's, watching spark-brokenly as the younger mech repeated the desperate, perplexed question to himself, over and over again. This.... this had been becoming more and more common during Perceptor's crying fits, but entirely new compared to his usual routine. Wheeljack was afraid of what it all meant..... because as these tiny noises started to slip from Perceptor as he cried, the rest of the time found the shy, introverted scientist becoming more and more withdrawn from the rest of the world.  
  
Would he lose Perceptor forever then?  
  
“It's alright, Percy,” the big Autodog said, inching closer. He pulled the crying youngling into a loose embrace, chin nuzzling against droopy ears in what he hoped was a reassuring touch. He could never be sure though. “It'll be fine, okay?  One day..... you'll see..... And I promise I won't leave your side until that time comes.”  
  
Perceptor's muttering had quieted once again. Wheeljack held the younger Autodog close, feeling coolant splash against his chassis still, and more than certain that it wasn't him that was in the other mech's thoughts right now. But that would be okay too..... Because he meant every word he said; he would stay with Perceptor forever, as long as the Autodog allowed it. And he would love and protect him; shelter and care for him, where other mechs would and could not.  
  
And when Perceptor gave birth to Starscream's selfish little spawn, well.... he'd be there still.  
  
He loved him too much.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  


Pulsing against his ears, the unknown spark pushed out waves of love and concern; weaving promises of home and devotion, if only it would be allowed in. But he couldn't let it in. It wasn't safe. He had to cover up all the jagged holes he bore; fill them with mortar and tar, remove the coding of his own spark, simply out of fear.  
  
Fear of others. Fear of pain. Fear of _himself_.  
  
Because he couldn't bear to be torn apart like that again; to feel his  whole life slip away through his servos. But still, despite how much he was afraid, and how often he denied this presence that stood by - _protecting_ him, it seemed- he could not quell the waves of love and courage that pulsed deeper inside of him.  
  
Signals from a budding spark nestled right against his own.  



	2. Vortex and Fireflight

**C.M.D: This chapter contains rape, kidnapping and further sexual acts with a child. NONE of this is CONDONABLE, nor should it be taken LIGHTLY. It is simply a character archetype that I felt needed to be explored just this once. If you come to hate Vortex, that is okay. You are MEANT to HATE him. The following story plays out in snippets, with their own ratings, but if you feel uncomfortable, the censored version is available on my FF.net page.  
  
Title:Regret  
Rating: G  
Summary: Vortex is sad  
  
** It was a heavy spark that Vortex realized he had lost his little Fireflight during the scuffle with those aliens from another dimension. He hadn't even had the chance to break the pup's seals! Even worse, he'd already lost the chance to corrupt the shih tzu's fragile processor too.  
  
But, with a photograph at hand and his dad's network to abuse, the kittycon was determined to find his lost little puppy before anyone else had the chance to touch him.  
  
Fireflight was all his, after all.  
  
 **Title: Second encounter  
Rating: NC-17  
Warning: shotacon, rape, manipulationSummary: Vortex finds Fireflight again.  
  
** A lone autodog was playing by himself in the playground, making sand castles in the nearest pit. He didn't notice that he was alone, so preoccupied with his play, or that the other children had already gone home with their creators. A beautiful hue of orange covered the playground, signaling that the orn was coming to a close at last. With a happy sound of pleasure, the shih tzu lifted his helm, admiring his handiwork before realizing how quiet it was. Slowly, he looked around the park.  
  
“Hello, Fireflight,” purred the big, strange mech sitting on one of the swings across from him. “Did you miss me?”  
  
“M-mr. Stranger....?,” the sparkling mumbled, rising to his pedes. He clasped his bucket to his chestplates nervously, shyly looking up at the kittycon. “I....I n-need to go h-home now....”  
  
Vortex got to his pedes, stalking closer. Before Fireflight could react, the mech was circling around him, scooping the autodog up and holding him close. “Oh? But I just got here. Did you not want to see me? Because if that's the case, I'll be really, really sad....” The lynx said this with a low purr, his visor flashing almost dangerously at the statement.  
  
The sparkling squirmed uneasily in the older mech's hold, his bucket dropping in his fright. He attempted to catch it but a sharp growl made Fireflight stiffen, tears coming to his optics as he turned his attention back to Vortex.  
  
“Come come now.....,” the kittycon cooed, lifting a servo and stroking the autodog's cheekplate. “Why are you crying, snowflake? Don't you want to be my friend? I'm very sorry that I wasn't able to play with you last time. Some nasty monsters hurt me so bad I had to go see the vet.”  
  
“I....i.....,” Fireflight stammered, calming a little at the gentle touch. “I w-was very scared a-and.... t-those pictures w-were even m-more scary....”  
  
Vortex was walking towards the trees now. “Oh? Really now?,” he asked, lip components pulled widely in a twisted smile. “Shall I make the scary pictures go away?”  
  
The shih tzu shuttered his optics, staring up at the bigger mech as he was set back down on the ground. “Really? You can do that Mr. Stranger?,” the pup asked, gaping in awe.  
  
The red visor flashed. “Of course, snowflake. Now.... why don't you pull off your shorts now.”  
  
Fireflight scrunched his face up a little in confusion. “But-”  
  
“It's the only way I can make the scariness go away,” the lynx quickly interjected, crouching in wait. His tail lazily flicked behind him. “Come now. You don't want to remember them any longer, do you?”  
  
The sparkling hesitated  for a moment, before shaking his helm. Quietly he pushed up the bottom of his t-shirt, pulling his shorts down a moment after and slipping them off. “I-is..... is that right?,” he shyly asked the kittycon, holding his shorts to his chestplates. The grey mech purred loudly, his gaze fixed to that pristine white plating.  
  
So beautiful.... so shiny..... So _unmarred_. Delicious. “Perfect,” Vortex rumbled lustfully. “Absolutely _perfect_.”  
  
A small smile started forming on Fireflight's lip components, but it was quickly lost again as the autodog was suddenly smothered by the kittycon; forced to the ground as sharp denta closed around his little throat. “M-mmmm....M-mr!,” he whined, confused and frightened all over again. He tried to squirm, to get away, but a servo to his chestplates kept him well caught.  
  
Vortex wasn't about to lose his prey now.  
  
With a skill that displayed the frequency of this act, the lynx dragged a sharp talon lightly down the sensitive line on the inside of Fireflight's hip, making the sparkling gasp and arch up into him, codpiece retracting quickly. Vortex nibbled and sucked his way down to the tiny 'bot's thighs, admiring the lovely sight of both strong, untouched seals before indulging himself in a few hungry licks to the precious treasures.  
  
The shih tzu moaned and whined at the strange sensation, optical sensors rolling backwards and mouth opened wide to let loose his choked sounds. Overwhelmed by the good feeling, the sparkling almost didn't notice when the lynx was pulling back; his hips being lifted up onto the large mech's thighs, and his legs spread wide.  
  
“Now the real fun can begin,” the kittycon muttered darkly, before there was a click and a long spike extended between the autodog's thighs.  
  
Fireflight's optics shot wide open at the scary sight, but he never even had the chance to protest before Vortex was diving forwards; snapping his seal and ramming deep into the virgin passage. A painful howl was ripped from the sparkling, wet, broken sobbing following it. Not that the other cared. He was smiling blissfully at the wonderful tightness around his spike, sensitive sensor nodes rolling and grinding against the ridges and nodes across his length. And he hadn't even moved yet!  
  
“Oh, you're _so good_ , snowflake,” Vortex panted heavily, drawing out before snapping his hips forward again. The little valve rippled, widening against the spike forcing it open. He repeated the action, going faster and faster each time. “Oh..... so fragging fantastic.....”  
  
The lynx hunched over, licking hungrily at the coolant pouring down the sparkling's face, snarling as he jumped into a vicious and hurried pace. Below him, Fireflight screamed and cried, writhing helplessly under the larger 'bot, his pleas and pain nothing more than incentives to the kittycon. Wrapped in such wet, molten heat, it didn't take Vortex very long to overload -though he was still amazed at how quickly he reached it.  
  
This was a really good valve.  
  
Growling again, the grey mech pushed his face into the crook of the autodog's neck, pushing his spike deeply into those silken folds as he tumbled over the edge; transfluid burning and filling the spaces in between. A half-choked, quiet moan escaped Fireflight at the sensation. Grinding a little to make sure he was well and milked, Vortex slowly pulled back, humming contently. He watched as his spike retracted back into its housing, soaked with his own fluids and a glistening film of energon. Looking upwards, the lynx was not surprised to find both transfluid and energon slowly dribbling out of the sparkling's abused valve.  
  
“Well, aren't you beautiful,” he purred to the silent autodog.  
  
Licking his lip components, Vortex bent back down, his servos grasping a white thigh each. “I think I'll have myself a little taste,” he said, before thrusting his glossa past the torn seal, swirling it around. Sensor nodes crackled sharply against the appendage, exciting the kittycon, who tongued them rapidly, wanting to draw more of that delicious electricity. His actions drew a torn gasp from Fireflight, who was slowly starting to respond again.  
  
“P-please.....,” the autodog hiccupped, “S-stop....”  
  
The grey mech ignored him, pushing his glossa deeper between the tight walls, laving at everything that came within reach; sucking back energon and his own transfluid. The mix of them was heady on his glossa, and the kittycon found himself hungry to eat them all up. Pulling back for a moment, Vortex found his diligent actions had caused the sparkling to heat up. Fireflight's spike pressed a little against its seal, not close enough to actually break it but visible enough.  
  
Encouraged by the challenge, Vortex set his sights on that next, pressing his open mouth over the entire area and sucking and licking at it without restraint. It barely took a klik more before Fireflight was breaking the seal, the little 'bot's spike extending right into the kittycon's waiting mouth. Overjoyed at the bittersweet twang of the seal's film, Vortex greedily sucked on the small cable, the autodog moaning and bucking wildly now into the lynx's face. With a sharp yip, Fireflight overloaded, shooting his first load into the other's mouth. Moaning in delight, Vortex let the shih tzu's spike retreat into its housing; licking his lip components as he swallowed down the delicious fluid.  
  
“Now wasn't that fun, snowflake?,” he purred, staring down intently at his victim.  
  
Optics wet with his unshed tears, Fireflight said nothing, curling into himself slightly. He was unable to stop himself from slipping into an exhausted recharge, missing the dark coat that swept forwards to encase him.  
  
 **Title: Kidnapped  
Rating: TWarning: shotacon, dubcon, manipulation  
Summary: Vortex has been keeping someone “company”  
  
** “And in other news, young pup Fireflight has still yet to be found. He's been missing for four days already, having disappeared on Thursday night when he was playing at the park. Authorities are confident in the belief that the sparkling is being held against his will somewhere. Viewers are asked to contact the police if they have any information to offer-”  
  
Humming, Vortex passed by the living room, oblivious to the news cast playing in the other room. In one servo he held a paper bag filled with toys and goodies; in the other, he carried a plate with peanut butter and gel sandwiches. He climbed up to the very top of the house, stopping before his bedroom door. A pad just over the knob demanded that several key-sensitive passwords be entered; Vortex did so, quickly and without a problem, humming louder as the door unlocked and he was free to enter the room.  
  
He was met with the sight of a sniffling autodog on his berth.  
  
“Hello, snowflake,” the lynx chirped, shutting the door quickly behind him. The lock fell back into place automatically as Vortex skipped across the room to his prisoner. “How is my precious puppy doing today?”  
  
“I-i.... I want to go home,” Fireflight said, turning his helm away from the kittycon. He quickly shuffled back against the wall when the grey mech sat down. “I d-don't like you!”  
  
Vortex's visor flashed at the bold statement, setting down the bag and plate as he leaned towards the shih tzu. Fireflight flinched at his approach, but with nowhere to go, the sparkling could only pull his legs up to his chassis, winding his arms tightly around his knee joints.  
  
“And why would you want to do that, cutie? I thought we were friends,” Vortex replied, long fingers petting down the smaller 'bot's helm. “Is it because I hurt you? I'm so sorry that it had to happen snowflake.....”  
  
“But you know,” the kittycon continued. “It has to hurt in the beginning. Always. It's kinda like riding a bike for the first time. You ever ride a bike?”  
  
Slowly, the autodog nodded.  
  
Vortex smiled. “Of course you have. It's kinda like riding a bike, you see. You get hurt a lot in the start because you keep falling down, but after a while, you get used to it and you can stay upright for long periods of time. And then, riding a bike becomes lots of fun and you can even go faster.... and farther.... do tricks....”  
  
The lynx stopped his petting, his servo dropping down to Fireflight's shoulder. But not touching; not yet. “You'll like it soon, snowflake, you'll see,” he purred, smirking maliciously. “'Sides, you've been enjoying yourself so far, haven't you? Tell me if that's not the case.”  
  
The sparkling's cheekplates darkened and his helm bowed a little at the inquiry. Yet his optics stayed looking up at Vortex, showing his uncertainty, his confusion.... and his shame. The kittycon's smirk widened at the expression, triumphant as usual. Without a word, he loomed over the autodog, pushing a complacent Fireflight down onto the sheets and closing in on his prey.  
  
 **Title: Confusion  
Rating: T  
Summary: Fireflight is uncertain  
  
** He wasn't sure what to think anymore.  
  
He didn't like the kittycon for hurting him, and he wanted to hate him for keeping him locked up.... but Mr. Stranger wasn't all that bad. He got him treats, and toys, and made sure he was fed and even took care of him after he was hurt....  
  
And....  
  
Fireflight blushed, hugging the pillow tighter to himself. Between his legs, a heat was beginning to build up again, all warm and wet. Mr. Stranger had been right too. It still hurt, but it was getting better. Much better. The sparkling almost wanted the kittycon to come back.  
  
Almost....  
  
It was still wrong he knew, and he still didn't like him. Or so he told himself.  
  
 **Title: Freedom  
Rating: G  
Summary: The little butterfly gets his freedom  
  
** When he heard the door start to beep, Fireflight immediately shot up, his fuel tanks a knot of conflicted feelings. He sat himself on the edge of the berth, waiting to greet Mr. Stranger. The kittycon had said he wanted the sparkling to welcome him every time he came back....  
  
But when the door opened, it wasn't the lynx that greeted him, but a strange siamese. Flat, cold grey optics looked at him over the other's scarf; neither 'bot moving or saying a word.  
  
“Why am I not surprised....,” the mysterious kittycon finally said after a moment. Fireflight opened his mouth but wisely shut it again. He didn't really think the stranger was talking to him.  
  
The larger mech waited a moment more, looking intently at the sparkling before stepping to the side. “Come,” he demanded, his tone only slightly troubled, as if this entire thing was a task he rather not be doing. “You are going home.”  
  
The shih tzu jolted at the words. A rush of emotions ran through him suddenly, making Fireflight jump to his pedes, eager to get out of the room. He wanted to go home; he wanted to see his brothers! The autodog paused though, before he had even taken a step towards the siamese. Expression dimming, Fireflight looked to the floor nervously.  
  
“I am not waiting. Come or stay.... Your choice,” the kittycon informed.  
  
Swallowing sharply, Fireflight lifted his optics to the stranger. “....o-okay....,” he mumbled. He looked around the room quickly -his prison of the past week or so- hesitating, before giving in and grabbing the turbofox plushie sitting on the berth. Hugging it to his chestplates tightly, the autodog hurried out of the room. Quietly, he watched as the siamese closed the door again, following after the other's lead as they started downstairs.  
  
 **Title: Reunion  
Rating: G  
Summary: Fireflight is reunited with his brothers  
  
** “Fireflight!”  
  
“Fireflight, you are okay!”  
  
Warm arms encased him from every side, pulling the younger shih tzu close as kisses and tears were rained on Fireflight; his brothers mumbling desperate words of relief and thanks to Primus above. Sad that he had worried them, all the same, the white 'bot gladly accepted all of his brothers' affections, needing them after so long.  
  
“Are you alright, 'Flight? What happened to you? Who took you away?,” Silverbolt asked, as the others pulled back a little. The oldest mech cupped Fireflight's cheekplates, his anxious blue optics looking deeply into the sparkling's. “How did you get home?”  
  
“I took the train,” Fireflight smiled easily.  
  
His brothers exchanged worried looks, petting and stroking at their sibling's ears. “Maybe we should contact the police....,” Skydive said. “We need to inform them as it is that Fireflight has returned home, but perhaps further investigation is necessary.”  
  
“You're right,” Silverbolt agreed, looking to the blue mech, “Can you comm them Skydive?”  
  
“Forget the police! We need to get some food into him,” Air Raid interjected. “Look how scuffed up and pale he is -there's no way he had anything proper to eat in orns!”  
  
“When I get my servos on the glitch that took my brother.....,” Slingshot snarled.  
  
It was too much for the sparkling to take all at once. Silently, he yanked on Silverbolt's sleeve, until he had the older 'bot's attention. “Can I.... Can I go to sleep, 'Bolt?,” Fireflight weakly asked. “Please? I'm really tired....”  
  
All optics were back on the sparkling again. Glancing first at the other's, the larger shih tzu forced a smile to his face, patting Fireflight's helm. “Yes, of course you can. Air Raid, could you please....?”  
  
The red youngling quickly nodded, stepping forward and gently grasping the sparkling by the shoulder plating. “Come on, 'Flight,” Air Raid smiled. “Let's get you to bed, yeah?” Picking his little brother up, the autodog started down the apartment hallway, heading for the room him, Fireflight and Slingshot all shared. Fireflight did not miss it when hushed chatter started up again as soon as he was out of sight.  
  
“Alright, you just lie down right here, 'Flight,” his brother soothed, patting his helm as he set the smaller 'bot down. “If you need anything, you know we're right outside the door, okay?”  
  
Fireflight nodded.  
  
Reluctantly, Air Raid pulled away; smiling anxiously at the sparkling as he left. The talking got quieter down the hall. Fireflight laid in his berth, his superhero sheets tucked up to his chin, waiting a few kliks longer to make sure that no one would be coming back just yet. When he felt he'd waited long enough, he pulled the turbofox plushie out of his shirt, laying the doll down beside him. He stared into its shiny, plastic eyes, fiddling with a paw, before he could keep his optics online no longer and slipped into recharge.  
  
 **Title: Pout  
Rating: T  
Summary: Tension is spread around the entire house  
  
** “Quit your whining,” Onslaught growled, snapping open his paper.  
  
“...not whining....,” came a sulk from the other end of the table. The serval shot a quick and nasty glare to his son.  
  
“Sulking then. Suck it up,” he continued. “You're not deserving enough for self-pity.”  
  
Vortex pouted further, but regretted it a moment afterwards when the action caused him to pull at his sore and dented cheekplates. Licking at a tear along the side of his mouth, he said, “Over a little bruise? Please..... You probably should of hit me harder. Or lower. What say you, daddy-o; you up for a little 'punishment'?”  
  
Onslaught tried not to sigh at the lynx's typical masochistic response. “Why does Primus torture me?,” he grumbled to himself, attempting to focus on the economical reports.  
  
Annoyed that he was being ignored, Vortex glared at the table top. “I could say the same thing,” he hissed to himself.  
  
“What did I tell you!,” the serval snapped, whirling around in his seat. “Shut up -don't you dare talk, glitch. I don't give a frag if you want to spike everything from here to Moon Base One, but if you ever- EVER- even think about bringing another sparkling here again, I'm sending you to solitary confinement at Kaon's stockades. Let you and your fragging libido rot for the rest of your function!”  
  
The lynx stared at his sire with absolute horror, before letting out a terrifying yowl and tearing from the room. Onslaught merely huffed in irritation, turning back to his newspaper. “....Wish the lot of them would hurry up and move out like their brother....,” he grumbled to himself further.  
  
And to think.... all of this melodrama over a frag toy Vortex had lost.  
  
 **Title: House Arrest  
Rating: G  
Summary: Fireflight wonders if he isn't also a prisoner at home  
  
** “Please?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“B-but, I-”  
  
“I said 'no', 'Flight!,” Slingshot snapped. The older autodog opened his mouth again, closing it when he saw the crestfallen look his brother had. Optics filling up with tears, the sparkling turned away from Slingshot, running back down the hall and to his room.  
  
Cursing himself, Slingshot followed.  
  
“Listen..... Fireflight,” he attempted to apologize, “It's just.... I mean..... Slaggit, you went missing alright, and we were all very scared! But you won't tell us what happened and you won't see the vet -we're just trying to look out for you, okay? And 'Bolt thinks it would be best if you just stayed inside for a little while.”  
  
The younger shih tzu lifted his face from his pillow, turning to look at his brother. “I-i-i just....,” he sobbed, “I-i just wa-want to p-play o-outside..... j-just for a l-little bit!”  
  
Slingshot felt any of his anger disappear; sighing, he crossed the room, sitting on Fireflight's berth as he held a hesitant servo over the other's helm. “I know, 'Flight....,” he mumbled. “I know. We just don't want to lose you again though....”  
  
Fireflight said nothing, pressing his face back into his pillow and crying some more.  
  



	3. Vortex and Fireflight II

**C.M.D: Another chapter of these two. What you see in Fireflight is standard Stockholm Syndrome and Vortex plays his sexual deviant/manipulator/sleazeball very well. Again, a censored edition is available on FF.net for those uncomfortable with the set-up.  
  
Title:  Clean up  
Rating: G  
Summary: Vortex decides to take care of the mess in his room  
  
** The kittycon shook open the black garbage bag, bending over and grabbing the scattered toys across his berthroom floor. He didn't bother to check them or to differentiate between the broken and good ones, just throwing each and every one of them into the plastic bag. By the end of it, Vortex had himself two stuffed garbage bags of unnecessary play things and dolls.  
  
Kicking them to the side of his door, the lynx slowly turned around his room, frowning in confusion. He ran through the list of toys in his processor, checking them off as he remembered chucking them into one of the bags. Even then, he realized one was missing.  
  
The kittycon double-checked every nook and cranny in his room; lifting up the berth and checking in between the mattresses. But still, no doll. Just where had the little turbofox plushie gone?  
  
Ears perking in thought, Vortex sat down on his berth, staring intently at his door. “Did you take it, snowflake?,” he whispered to himself, propping his chin on his servos. “Did you want to have a memento of our time together?”  
  
The kittycon's visor dimmed at the prospect, a devilish smirk tugging at his lip components.  
  
 **Title: Closet Monster  
Rating: NC-17  
Summary: Fireflight gets a surprise visitor  
  
** “M-mr. Stranger...?,” the sparkling gasped, as he was pushed onto his berth, warm lip components mouthing his little neck. He shuttered his optics in confusion, wriggling heavily under the kittycon's frame.  
  
Vortex hummed contently, drawing back for a moment, his hips grinding between the autodog's open thighs. “Call me Vortex, snowflake,” he purred, watching in excitement as Fireflight gasped at the action. “I was so disappointed when I got home and you were gone. I was hoping to play some more.”  
  
The shih tzu moaned as the lynx slipped his servos under the sparkling's shirt.  
  
“But that's alright now. I found you again and we can play all we want. So how about it? Want to come home with me again, snowflake?”  
  
Fireflight shook his helm, struggling to speak. “I-i-i....,” he stuttered, moaning, “N-no, I w-want to st-stay with m-my brothers. P-please..... please, d-don't t-take me aw-away again.”  
  
Vortex stilled for a moment, staring incredulously down at the teary sparkling. “....Are you saying no to me?,” the kittycon demanded, his tone dropping. “After I spent so much time looking for, and then sneaking into your apartment? Waiting for a moment when you were completely alone again?”  
  
The white 'bot whimpered softly at the claws running across his collar strut. He groped for the turbofox plushie blindly, yanking it to his chassis and shuttering his optics tight at the glare Vortex was now giving him. Again, the lynx paused in his motion to choke the little autodog, staring in muted surprise at the doll. Immediately, his entire demeanour changed.  
  
“So you did take a doll,” the bigger mech hummed merrily, nuzzling the frightened puppy. “Oh, I'm so glad, snowflake. Were you afraid you'd miss me? Is that why you took it? So you'd have something to remember me by?”  
  
Fireflight shivered against the affectionate touch, still clutching his doll tightly. “Y-yes...,” he whispered in confession, burying his blushing face into the turbofox's pelt.  
  
Vortex's ears twitched at the words, a slag-eating grin spread wide across his cheekplates. “Oh....,” he cooed, “Oh, Fireflight. You make me so, so, so happy when you say that snowflake.” Unzipping his fly, the kittycon let his codpiece retract, his hungry spike pressurizing to its fullest length. “So happy in fact, that I want to get inside of that slutty valve of yours. How about it, hmm? Want to pull off your shorts for me and show me that wet, filthy lil' port? I bet you're already soaked and starving to be full again....”  
  
The sparkling flushed brighter, moaning as Vortex leaned down on him, rubbing his spike over the front of the autodog's shorts. “Come on,” the lynx cajoled, leaning closer to bite one of those plump lip components. “I know you want t-”  
  
The click of a lock turning made them both freeze. “Fireflight! We're home!”  
  
“M-my brothers.....,” Fireflight gasped softly. “Th-they're b-ba-!” Vortex quickly pressed a finger to the sparkling's lip components, forcing his spike to retract and covering himself up again.  
  
“Ah, well.... that cuts the fun short then for now. But,” he added, smirking down on his prey, “We'll continue this at a later time. Just don't tell them that I'm here, okay.”  
  
Giving one last grind, the kittycon quickly slid off the berth and soundlessly clambered back into the closet from which he had first come out of. He started closing the door after him, but paused, turning around and giving the younger 'bot a wink. “Remember snowflake,” he advised, “If you don't want me to go away, you'll have to do everything you can to make me stay. Even lie.”  
  
The door closed on the red visor, hiding Vortex from view. Sitting up quickly, Fireflight hugged his plushie to his chestplates, torn about what to do.  
  
“Fireflight?! Ah, jeez.....,” Slingshot growled, rushing through the door. “Say something next time would you! ....I'd thought you'd been taken away again.....”  
  
“Of.....of course not!,” the smaller shih tzu replied, turning to his brother with a smile on his face. “D-did you guys have a fun trip?”  
  
Fireflight scrambled off the berth, bouncing to the door and Slingshot. The older mech just scoffed, turning around and heading down the hallway, expecting his sibling to follow. Fireflight did, sparing a glance back at the open crack in the closet door.  
  
 **Title: Wet  
Rating: T  
Summary: Someone gets a little soaked  
  
** “Oh....” came the lustful purr, “Now I _know_ you're just doing this to tease me.”  
  
Fireflight swallowed sharply, intakes hitching as grey fingers picked at his wet clothes. Vortex's visor gleamed at the sound he made, tail sweeping behind him sultrily. “It's like you're a gift  just for little ol' me.”  
  
“I-i-i....,” the sparkling stuttered, not offering even a complaint as he was lifted up and held before the kittycon. “I-it was a-an accident, really.... I di-didn't m-mean t-to sp-spill the jug....”  
  
“Of course you didn't,” Vortex replied distractedly. His attention was fixed to those lovely energon-stained cheeks and plump lip components; dropping lower to gaze at the clothes now sticking wetly to the shih tzu's frame, thighs rubbing together self-consciously. The sight got the larger mech's systems rumbling.  
  
“Hmmm.... all the same, I think I'm going to enjoy this,” the lynx purred, pulling Fireflight closer. The sparkling gasped, clutching at Vortex's sleeves as a hungry glossa snaked out for his neck.  
  
 **Title: Concern  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Fireflight's brothers begin to worry  
  
** It had been at least a couple months now since Fireflight had returned home to them after his kidnapping and at first they had thought maybe the sparkling would open up and talk to them about what had happened to him. But it became obvious after a week that Fireflight didn't want to talk about the incident; in fact, he seemed to have clear forgotten what had occurred and who was responsible.  
  
Then a couple weeks later, the smallest shih tzu began to act weirdly. He carried his turbofox plushie with him  everywhere he went, looking over his shoulder plating repeatedly every few kliks and started whispering to himself in empty rooms when he thought his brothers weren't paying attention. Sometimes, he'd peek into closets, smiling and giggling.  
  
Silverbolt was the most concerned about this. After being abandoned orns ago by their creators, the shih tzus had spent many stellar cycles struggling to keep together as they were bounced around the foster care system. Eventually, the oldest autodog had become of legal age to become guardian; he'd first gotten out of the system himself, got a job and a small apartment and then took his brothers out of foster care as well. It had been a fight, since the Authorities didn't want to grant guardianship to Silverbolt, but in the end the shih tzu had won custody of his younger siblings.  
  
He couldn't help but be worried all the time now, acting as the adult for his brothers. Fireflight's kidnapping had only increased his fears. Had he, in some way or form, aided in his brother's disappearance and the strange way he acted now?  
  
Skydive tried to console him, and in their own way, so did Air Raid and Slingshot, but the fact remained that Silverbolt still felt responsible. Peeking into the berthroom now, he watched as Fireflight giggled, standing at the closet door. The smaller shih tzu whispered something into the dark space, leaning inside so his face was obscured by the door, before pulling back, giggling some more. He whispered again, before shutting the door and skipping from the room. Silverbolt quickly tucked himself out of sight as Fireflight went skipping past, coming out of hiding only when the sparkling had gone into the living room.  
  
Frowning in confusion, the older autodog walked into the berthroom, slowly approaching the closet. He rested a servo on one of the door knobs, just holding it there, uncertain if he was being clear in his thinking or if he was giving into simple paranoia.  
  
Sighing after a klik, Silverbolt removed his servo, quickly turning and exiting from the room. He missed the door being pushed open an inch, a red gaze peeking dangerously out from the dark space.  
  
 **Title: Lunch Bag  
Rating: PG  
Summary: It's finally time for school to start  
  
** Fireflight opened his closet door, expecting Vortex to be there to greet him like he usually was. Today though, the kittycon wasn't. The autodog's tail drooped sadly at the revelation; closing the door, Fireflight started toward his berth. Already, his knapsack was set on the berth -packed- and a change of clothes for the orn were folded next to them. Putting down his doll, the sparkling quickly changed out of his pajamas.  
  
Even though he was sad that Vortex wasn't there to greet him this morning, he was still very happy. Today he would be starting school! Fireflight couldn't wait to meet his new classmates and to see his new classroom.  
  
“'Flight! Hurry it up -we're leaving now!,” came Slingshot's impatient shout from down the hall.  
  
“Yes,” Skydive added, his voice raised but not yelling like the other shih tzu's. “You don't want to be late on your first day, do you?”  
  
“I'm coming!,” Fireflight called back, quickly stuffing the fox plushie in his knapsack and slinging it onto his back. Unable to quell his excitement, the sparkling rushed from his room, ramming straight into Air Raid's side.  
  
The older mech chuckled, lifting Fireflight up. “Someone's eager,” he grinned. Air Raid cast a quick glance over his shoulder plating to Slingshot. “Unlike some others I know, this little butterfly can't wait to get to school.”  
  
“Ah, shut up!,” growled Slingshot. “C'mon, let's get going already!” The shih tzu turned and stomped out the door, the other three following after him. Skydive pulled up beside Air Raid, patting Fireflight's helm.  
  
“You looking forward to the new year?,” he asked.  
  
“Yep!,” came the quick and cheery chirp. The two older brothers smiled together; Air Raid nuzzling the sparkling's ears. “You're going to have lots of fun, 'Flight,” Air Raid assured.  
  
“And you know where you can find us if you ever need to,” the other autodog added. “We're just upstairs, in the older kids' classes. Do you want me to write down which room numbers we're in?”  
  
“No, it's okay,” Fireflight said, nuzzling Air Raid back. He squirmed, giggling, when his brother started to pinch him playfully, turning his blue optics back to Skydive. “I can find you on my own. I'm a big boy now.”  
  
Skydive shuttered his optics in mild surprise at the statement, before he merely smiled again; a small vent escaping him. “Yes, of course you are,” he agreed, leaning forward and kissing Fireflight on the forehead. “But there's no harm in asking for help when its needed.”  
  
The smaller shih tzu said nothing to that, shifting until he could rest his helm against Air Raid's shoulder plating comfortably; offlining his optics for the rest of the trip.  
  
 **Title: Stalker  
Rating: NC-17  
Warning: Groping, fingering and manipulation  
Summary: A special visitor comes to Fireflight's school  
  
** “Hello, snowflake- it's me! Your personal stalker!”  
  
Fireflight turned at the call, surprised, as Vortex stepped easily out of one of the washroom stalls; a wide grin stretching the kittycon's lip components. “V-vortex!,” the sparkling gaped, before letting out a little squeal and running for the older mech. The lynx's grin widened as he crouched down to welcome the autodog, scooping Fireflight up into his arms.  
  
“Did you miss me?,” he teased.  
  
“Oh, Mr. Vortex I thought I wasn't going to see you today! And I was really sad because I wouldn't get to show you my brand new books and everything....,” Fireflight replied, pouting sadly at the thought of having gone the whole orn without seeing his strange friend. “But now you're here and I can show you my class, and my teacher, and my new friends and-!”  
  
“Sorry, cutie,” Vortex quickly interrupted. “But I won't be able to see those things today..... Now, now, chin up, snowflake. You can show me another day. For now, I just wanted to come see how you were doing.”  
  
The kittycon leered at the downcast expression Fireflight wore. He loved the way those gorgeous optics shimmered with tears. “And can I just say you're looking might tasty, snowflake,” the grey mech purred, a servo already slipping under the sparkling's shirt.  
  
Fireflight gasped, cheekplates flushing as long digits tickled up his spinal struts, before sinking back under his pants. They curled around his aft, digging into the seams. “M-mr.....Vo-vortex....,” the sparkling whimpered, squirming in the other's hold.  
  
Vortex smirked at the soft sound, moving so he could push the pup against one of the stall walls. “I'm gonna-”  
  
The lynx stilled as he heard voices approaching; the washroom door creaking open, sparkling voices getting louder. Fireflight's gasp was muffled as he found himself being carried swiftly into a stall; Vortex locking the door and squatting on top of the toilet. He set the autodog on his lap, fingers slipping back into the shih tzu's pants and stroking along his codpiece. “We're gonna play a game, okay?,” the kittycon whispered huskily, his lip components mouthing along Fireflight's ear seductively. The other sparklings outside of the stall continued their chatter, unaware of the two mechs hiding. “You've gotta keep as quiet as you can -no noise whatsoever- or else you'll be found out by the others. You don't want them to see you like this.... do you?”  
  
Fireflight stifled his mewl as best as he could, as he granted the lynx entrance; a grey finger slipping immediately into his valve. Fortunately, Vortex's servo over his mouth was able to drown out all the rest. Legs wrestled open further, the sparkling felt his focus slip away entirely, his tiny fingers scrambling over Vortex's servo, optical sensors rolling back in his helm.  
  
The lynx purred pleasantly as Fireflight weakened against him, moans and shivers of ecstasy still noticeable even despite his attempts to keep silent. His index finger swirled along the rim of the autodog's valve before dipping inside, pressing against all of the sensor nodes harshly. He almost drew a squeal of surprise out of the sparkling with that, and it excited Vortex hearing it. Quickly, he slid in a second, the tiny valve already full with merely two digits. Seeing the tightness as a challenge, the kittycon put in a third finger, then a fourth, the warm passage rippling and giving easily around the intrusion.  
  
Licking his lip components, Vortex refrained from uncovering his spike, his attention fixed entirely on the hot lubricants dripping into his palm and the wild bucking the sparkling was falling into. “Ah, you're so lovely, snowflake,” he rumbled into Fireflight's ear. “But if you make any more noise, the other children will hear you. You really want to be caught, don't you? Do you like the idea of having people seeing you like this, all flushed and spread open, with my fingers buried deep inside your fragging beautiful valve?”  
  
“Oh, I bet you do,” the kittycon continued, “You're so wet and hot for me, snowflake.... You just love when I violate you like this, dontcha? I bet you just want to have everyone know how much of a slut you are for me.”  
  
The pup shivered violently, frame spasming, as he overloaded; lubricants gushing down Vortex's fingers. The lynx purred as he removed his servo from Fireflight's mouth, the tiny autodog gasping for air desperately as the bigger mech slid his fingers out of his valve fluidly. Vortex was proud as he glanced downwards, seeing the supple walls retract back to normal size with no trace of energon in sight. The best thing about sparklings was how well their frames could adapt, and the kittycon had trained this one's valve beautifully. He'd always have a tight but malleable port to use at will until he grew tired of it.  
  
“O-oh.....oh no.....,” Fireflight hiccupped, squirming in Vortex's lap. The other 'bot looked down on the whimpering sparkling, busy licking his delicious lubricants off of his fingers.  
  
“What's wrong, snowflake?,” he asked disinterestedly, pausing in his self-cleaning. “If you're worried about the others, they left just before we finished. We won the game after all.”  
  
The white autodog shook his helm at those words, slowly climbing down from the kittycon's lap. Vortex let him, watching the pup with a careful optic. “M-my..... my shorts,” Fireflight replied meekly, his cheekplates flush with his embarrassment and his optics glazed with coolant. “T-they're..... they're all d-dirty now. I-i-i can't... can't g-go back to cl-class l-like this....”  
  
The lynx grinned as he dropped his gaze to the sparkling's shorts. Indeed, the fabric was wet, soaked richly from the lubricants he had pounded from Fireflight's sweet valve. He thought the sight was beautiful and would have enjoyed seeing the shih tzu walking around with such a blatant property mark, but of course, secrecy was needed if he wanted to continue playing with the puppy without challenge. “Well,” Vortex cooed, reaching into his back pocket, “Good thing I have these then, hmm?”  
  
He pulled out another pair of shorts, similar in colour to the ones Fireflight already wore, to the autodog's surprise and joy. “M-mr. Vortex,” the sparkling gaped, his lip components quirked in a smile.  
  
“Just Vortex, snowflake. Mr. is for daddies. Now,” the mech cooed, pulling the little one close. “Let's get you changed.”  
  
Fireflight let himself be picked back up and set in the lynx's lap; his sticky shorts pulled off his legs slowly, servos clenched up at his face as he saw the hungry look Vortex was giving him again. “You did make such a mess,” the kittycon purred, lip components pressing against a shivering knee. “I'd hate to let all this sweet lubricant go to waste..... but your next class is about to start and you've been away too long. I'll have to send you back but I will come see you later, my cutie.”  
  
Vortex grabbed a fistful of toilet paper, languidly wiping at the beads of lubricant still doting the autodog's exposed valve, enjoying every additional tremble he got out of the shih tzu. Finally, Fireflight did let his codpiece fall back into place, halting any further fun the lynx might have had. Slipping on the shorts for the white 'bot, Vortex put Fireflight back down on his pedes; pinching at the base of the shih tzu's tail lightly.  
  
“Go on then,” the kittycon waved flippantly, “Go run along to class now. I'm sure you want to go back and have fun with your new 'friends'.”  
  
The shih tzu reached up on tippy-toe, undoing the bolt for the stall, pausing and looking back at the older mech. “Th-thank you, M-mr....umm, I-i mean, Vortex,” he mumbled sweetly, his cheekplates stained with energon. “F-for the c-clean shorts a-and, umm... b-bye!”  
  
Yipping a little, Fireflight raced from the bathroom as the bell rang over head, leaving Vortex behind, forgotten momentarily. Not that the kittycon really minded. Leisurely, the grey 'bot closed the stall door again with a pede, holding out the sparkling's soiled shorts before himself. He twisted them this way and that, slowly, admiringly, before pulling the clothe to his olfactory sensor and inhaling deeply. The lubricant drying still held a sweet, almost tangy aroma that stirred the lynx's lust.  
  
These were definitely going into his steadily growing collection.  
  
 **Title: Tummy Ache  
Warning: PG  
Summary: Fireflight is feeling weird  
  
** Skydive stroked Fireflight's helm, tugging the bedsheets higher up the shih tzu's chin. “Is this alright, 'Flight?,” the older mech asked, brushing softly at his brother's ears again.  
  
The smaller autodog nodded his helm as best as he could, whimpering when his sibling's servo left his forehead. “I... I s-still don't feel g-good....,” Fireflight mumbled, grabbing at the bedsheets. “S-stay...?”  
  
“Yes, I won't be far, Fireflight,” Skydive replied, kissing the sparkling's crown. “I'll just get you some energon, okay?”  
  
Fireflight nodded his helm, lying back in his berth weakly. The larger shih tzu paused at the door, worried that the sparkling might need him immediately, but Fireflight made no such sign. With a sigh, Skydive forced himself to go to the kitchen to grab a glass of energon like he promised, all the while pondering about his youngest brother's peculiar upset fuel tanks.  
  
 **Title: Jitters  
Warning: T  
Summary: Vortex can't wait to see Fireflight again  
  
** The kittycon twirled across the room, grin spread across his cheekplates. He held the broom close to his frame, bopping to some unheard song, as he let his processor wander. Why was this grown mech doing all of this in the first place?  
  
Well, because of his little snowflake.  
  
Vortex leered at no one in particular, dipping his broom low to the floor. He imagined for a moment that it was Fireflight in his arms; the sparkling looking up at him with those large, uncertain optics, cheekplates flushed as he was lowered to the floor by the lynx. Oh, how the grey mech loved that look. That expression of innocence, slipping away, from trepidation and lust as other unknown emotions were stirred for the first time.....  
  
Stealing one's virtue had never been so much fun.  
  
“...Exactly what are you doing?”  
  
Vortex looked up from the floor, where he was currently straddling the broom, finding his sire Onslaught looking back down on him oddly. The serval had his arms crossed over his chestplates, a firm scowl fixed on his face as he looked down on his son.  
  
“Get up and shove that charge back down into your systems,” the older kittycon growled, “You've got work to do soldier.”  
  
“Aye aye, capitaine,” Vortex smirked, mockingly saluting as he scrambled back up to his pedes. Onslaught snarled in disdain, turning and strutting from the room. Purring, the lynx picked up his fallen broom, already thinking about his next meeting with his favourite puppy.  
  
 **Title: Surprise  
Warning: M  
Summary: Vortex discovers something pleasant  
  
** The lynx growled as he slipped around the tree, fangs bared at the sparklings. They immediately stopped in their taunting, turning about and fleeing in terror from the mech. Grinning wickedly at the fear he had caused from them, Vortex turned back to the base of the tree, purring at the sight he saw before him.  
  
“Well, _hello_ snowflake.”  
  
Fireflight hiccupped, twisting uncertainly from where he had been shoved to the ground; cheekplates rich with energon and optics dim and unfocused. Even from where he stood, Vortex could smell the succulent lubricant seeping past seams and sticking tender thighs quickly. He would never have suspected that the sparkling would have hit his heat cycle so soon, but nonetheless, the lynx was happy to come visit his prey when he had.  
  
He would have hated it if some of the other kids had gotten even a peek under Fireflight's lovely plating.  
  
“What's wrong, cutie? Not feeling well?,” Vortex teased as he crouched lowly, stalking closer to the trembling sparkling.  
  
“I-i-i....,” Fireflight choked, whimpering as his heat spiked. His little fingers twisted themselves in his shirt as coolant collected along the edges of his optics. “V-vortex.... I-i..... no fe-feel g-good....”  
  
The kittycon chuckled as he loomed over the shih tzu. “Then allow me to be of assistance,” he purred lowly, dipping down to the sparkling and wrapping his mouth around the tiny, outstretched neck. Fireflight gasped at the touch, clutching at the bigger 'bot as pleasure zinged across his sensory net.  
  
 **Title: Bundle  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Vortex returns home happy  
  
** Blast Off unwisely lowered his book as he heard his younger brother enter the house, humming; siamese ears perking in unease and a frown of annoyance pulling at his lip components from behind the pages of his novel. Vortex sounded happy.....  
  
 _Too_ happy.  
  
He watched as the other kittyon came almost skipping past the living room, turning and starting up the stairs that were right within direct sight of Blast Off. It didn't escape the brown mech's notice that there was a small bundle cradled in Vortex's arms.  
  
As if feeling his brother's optics on him, the lynx paused on the steps, crouching so he could look at Blast Off sitting on the couch. “Tell Daddy-o that I'll be missing dinner tonight,” Vortex grinned lustfully, “I've got things I need to do upstairs in my room.”  
  
Circuits crawling from the lewd look he was unfortunate to be on the receiving end of, Blast Off quickly buried his olfactory sensor back into his book. “You will be punished,” he called, as he heard Vortex continue upstairs; humming that blasted cheery tune again.  
  
“Not until after I've been rewarded!,” Vortex shouted back, before there was only the quick stomping of pedes as the lynx hurried up the rest of the stairs to his room in the attic above.  
  
 **Title: Breakfast  
Rating: NC-17  
Warning: shota-con, oral and the improper use of a table  
Summary: Fireflight is hungry  
  
** “I....I'm hungry.” The little autodog watched as his captor walked around the kitchen, pulling open cupboards and drawers, looking for something obviously. Trying not to sniffle, Fireflight sat quietly where Vortex had sat him on the kitchen table, his fuel tanks twisting painfully among other aches. Last night he had stayed up in the kittycon's room again, having been brought straight to the lynx's home after he was found in heat the other orn. At first, the shih tzu hadn't minded so much, because he had felt really weird and everything that Vortex did made it all nice.... but now it was the morning after. His frame was battered it felt, his legs were weak, his bottom sore, his vocalizer a little raw and his fuel tanks groaning seeing as he had missed dinner too. All the pup wanted to do was get something in his tummy and go back to sleep. Yet, he was still worried.  
  
Would the kittycon let him go home this time.... or would he force him to stay, like before? Fireflight didn't want to miss his school or brothers anymore....  
  
“Here snowflake,” Vortex purred, setting a bowl of Energon O's beside the sparkling. “Enjoy.” The autodog grabbed the bowl immediately, clasping the spoon tightly as he quickly inhaled the cereal. It was a poor breakfast.... but at least it was food. Putting the spoon aside once all the cereal was gone, Fireflight tipped his helm back and drank the remaining energon. Licking his lip components he rested the bowl in his lap, looking to the lynx curiously who was sitting in front of him in one of the chairs; red visor glowing as he stared unfaltering at the sparkling.  
  
“A-aren't.... aren't you going to have some breakfast too?,” Fireflight asked innocently, looking around himself. There was no other sign of a bowl or the like, indicating that Vortex was going to eat as well.  
  
The shih tzu felt his intakes hitch when the kittycon gently removed his bowl, placing it off to the side and leaning in closer. “But of course,” the grey mech rumbled lustfully, “My breakfast is right here.”  
  
Fireflight squeaked softly as he was pushed back onto the table top, his shirt pushed up and his trembling legs spread wide open. Before he had a chance to protest, a hot glossa was licking from the bottom to the top of his codpiece hungrily; circuits shivering at the heated contact before the protective plating automatically retracted to grant his assailant entrance. The sparkling mewled, knees snapping together around Vortex's helm as his stretched valve was plundered again, this time by the wet, writhing appendage burying itself through clamping walls. It took barely kliks before the autodog was overloading; his valve squeezing tight around the pleasantly invasive glossa, lubricants gushing down and into the waiting mouth. Pulling out slowly, the lynx leisurely lapped at the sparkling's rim, and then the rest of his plating, moving upward and even licking away the splattering of transfluid that decorated his bare abdomen.  
  
“Mmmm...,” Vortex purred, leering up at the shih tzu. “Thank you for the delicious breakfast.” He pressed a nipping bite to the inside of Fireflight's thigh. “Now here's the rest of yours.”  
  
The kittycon straightened up, codpiece retracting and spike pressurizing directly into the sparkling's valve as he pressed their hips together. Gasping as he was immediately stuffed, Fireflight whimpered and bucked on the table, helm tipping back and mouth falling open as Vortex broke out into a rapid pace, eager to mark his claim inside of the autodog once more. The table creaked and swayed beneath them dangerously as the bigger 'bot fragged his prey, pulling out to the tip and slamming back in to the hilt, repeatedly smacking dead on into the cluster of sensor nodes buried deep within Fireflight. Letting loose a choked scream, the sparkling overloaded again, his valve clamping uselessly around the large shaft rammed inside of him. Hissing at the sweet tightness, Vortex thrust shallowly a couple more times before he reached his own peak with a gravelly purr.  
  
Keeping himself still buried into the tender, little port, the kittycon grasped Fireflight under his backstruts, pulling the sparkling with him when he fell back into his chair. Whimpering breathlessly at the shift of angle, the autodog grasped at Vortex's shirt, resting his helm on the other's chassis tiredly.  
  
“Oh, you must be kidding me!,” snapped a voice suddenly. Jolting in surprise, the sparkling turned his helm to the doorway, blushing as he saw it was the quiet siamese standing there, a look of disbelief and disgust sketched across his face.  
  
“Ah..... looks like the fun's over now,” the lynx sighed nonchalantly, patting Fireflight's backstruts lightly. “Alright, time to get up, snowflake. Make sure you lock all those juices up nice and tight, okay? Just like I taught you.”  
  
Cheekplates dark with energon, the shih tzu nodded meekly as he faced Vortex again; slowly, pushing himself up off the kittycon's lap and letting his codpiece slide back into place before too much transfluid slipped back out. “Good boy,” Vortex purred at him, making the pup blush more. “Now, go clean up and get ready for school. I'll come get you shortly.”  
  
Trying his best to ignore the other kittycon, Fireflight scrambled down from the grey mech's lap, pulling his shirt down in an attempt to cover his naked aft as he hurried from the room. The lynx was the only one who watched him go, licking his lip components as he watched that adorable little tail peek out from under the sparkling's shirt. “I trained him so well.”  
  
“What,” Blast Off snarled, cutting off his brother, “Do you think you are doing?”  
  
“Having breakfast,” Vortex grinned back. The siamese scoffed, sneering slightly at the other kittycon.  
  
“You are disgusting.” The grey mech shrugged. “Get out of the kitchen before I decide to chop of your spike and grill it in the skillet,” Blast Off ordered coldly. “And put on some clothes, for Primus' sake!,” he added as his younger sibling rose to his pedes.  
  
He wisely stepped out of the way, giving Vortex plenty of room as the lynx calmly skipped out of the room, unabashed about his nakedness or the fact that he had just been 'facing with a 'bot stellar cycles younger than their youngest brother Swindle. Frowning, Blast Off stared at the table -the victim in this heinous crime- before sighing and throwing his servos into the air as he too left the kitchen. There was no way he would be eating food in this kitchen today, let alone off that table ever again.  
  



	4. Skydive

**Chapter 4: Skydive  
Rating: PG  
  
** “Oomph!” The autodog turned the corner in the library, slamming dead center into a large weight on the other side. His books dropping from his servos at the unexpected collision, the blue mech blushed lightly in embarrassment; stooping quickly to gather his fallen items. “I....I am so sorry, sir,” Skydive stuttered.  
  
He saw a green servo reach down within his line of sight, picking up one of his books. “'The Command of  the Air?',” rumbled a deep voice questioningly. Skydive straightened up quickly, his blush deepening across his cheekplates. A yellow visor flashed as the kittycon stared down at the shih tzu. “Aren't you a little.... young... to be reading something like this? Or those for that matter?”  
  
Skydive glanced quickly down at the books he had gathered in his arms once again; thick heavy tomes, dusty from being unopened for so long, rich with military history and strategies. Though a very unusual and difficult read at times, the autodog found each of his choices enjoyable and couldn't help but to feel almost defensive as this stranger quietly studied him. “Yes, well,” the blue mech replied, pursing his lip components slightly as he politely held out his servo to get the book back from the serval. “I find the material quite fascinating and a beneficial learning platform, no matter the age of the reader.”  
  
The older mech had the audacity to smirk at the autodog, handing over the other book. “Is that so?,” he said, his tone almost taunting. “How old are you anyhow?”  
  
“I, umm....” Skydive almost dropped the book he received from the serval, caught off-guard by the inquiry. Getting shy again, the shih tzu lowered his optics, trying to avoid looking up at the mysterious 'bot. “I am seventeen stellar cycles, sir. I graduate shortly and will be attending Iacon Academy this fall.”  
  
“Really now?” The kittycon's smirk grew an inch. “I don't believe I asked you about your school.”  
  
“No... but I had presumed that might be your next question,” the younger mech returned smartly. Rumbling in understanding, the stranger held out his servo for Skydive, his entire demeanor growing a tad warmer.  
  
“Onslaught,” he introduced himself, as the autodog shyly grasped his larger fingers.  
  
“Sky....Skydive, sir,” the shih tzu mumbled back. His gaze dropped again, his servo flashing back to cradle his stack of books once the kittycon had released it. This time he could not help the burning he felt on his face, or the fact that he was suddenly a lot more self-conscious. The urge to fidget with his glasses was a hard one to ignore.  
  
“Well, Skydive,” Onslaught said, crossing his thick arms behind his back struts. “I hope you have a good time reading up on some important history, and best of luck with your enrollment into Iacon Academy. Have a good day.”  
  
With a slight inclination of his helm, the serval turned about face and walked off silently, leaving a young autodog to fret confusedly over the sudden pulsing of his spark.


	5. Blast Off

**Chapter 5: Blast Off  
Rating: PG  
  
** Blast Off was not hesitant at all to say that he was slightly miffed when the little autodog came crashing into his secret spot.  
  
At his perked ears and tail, the great pyrenees stumbled to an abrupt stop; his telescope and various datapads almost slipping out of his servos. Tucking his chin, the stranger took a step backwards, tail worming itself between his two legs from his fright.  
  
“I-i....I, umm....,” stuttered the autodog.  
  
Blast Off could not decide if he should growl back or let his silence scare the stupid mutt away.  
  
“M-maybe.... maybe I should j-just go....,” the pyrenees suggested on his own. “I-i'm sorry, and....o-oh! Is that Robinson Crusoe?”  
  
Before the siamese could even comment on the sudden change of topic, the green mech was clutching his things to his chestplates, his optics glowing in evident joy. “I enjoyed that book immensely. The plight of the main character is quite enlightening and I did so enjoy the moral at the end of it all. You know, sometimes I wish that I could go on adventures like that but I could never be so brave or-”  
  
“You've read this?,” the kittycon interrupted, closing his book and raising it slightly in demonstration. He didn't bother to hide his disdain. How could anyone, let alone some pathetic little autodog, have ever bothered to read pick up a decent book in this day and age?  
  
Apparently feeling more comfortable, the pyrenees stepped the last of the distance onto the cliff side, sitting down right beside the other mech. “I have, yes,” he smiled, setting down his astronomical tools. Blast Off could recognize them for what they were now that they were lying on  the grass next to him. “It's one of my favourites, along with Guilliver's Travels and The Scarlet Letter. It is a poor side effect from my one-'bot job..... I have plenty of time to read when there is nothing to be done.”  
  
Blast Off said nothing to this, merely studying the suddenly content autodog as he set about to browsing through his star charts. He was barely listening as the other one apologized and mumbled wistfully how he'd probably miss most of tonight's meteor shower and the shift in cosmic positioning. After all, none of it meant anything to the indifferent siamese.  
  
Yet he couldn't help but to cock his helm slightly, finding himself curious at the other's care-free attitude. There'd not yet been a 'bot who hadn't been unnerved, if not downright afraid of Blast Off, because of his simple coldness to everything and anything.  
  
Plus, he had a somewhat pleasing vocalizer.....


	6. Blast Off and Cosmos

**Title: Package  
Rating: PG  
Summary: There's a strange package in his office  
  
** There was a box.  
  
A box was sitting on his desk.  
  
Cosmos looked around himself uncertainly, as if double-checking that there was no one else in the room. But of course, the small office was devoid of anybody else, with the exception of him and his telescope. So who had left the package?  
  
The pyrenees shuffled forwards slowly, setting down his books on the only free space -his chair- as he studied the shiny, green box. It didn't look harmful- in fact, it looked like it was a gift of some sort. But who could have left it? Cosmos did not have many visitors at his office, and even when he did, something usually was knocked out of place.  
  
He was ashamed to admit, though while he was a good astronomer and respected member of the Science Department, he was terrible at organization and tidiness when it came to his own office. Some joked that it looked as if one of Wheeljack's inventions went off in here. Even Wheeljack himself poked fun! Glancing around now, Cosmos could see that not a single object had been moved from its previous spot since he went for lunch.  
  
Utterly baffled at the mysterious 'bot that had been in his office, the autodog turned his full attention back to the strange package; slowly reaching forward and lifting off the top. Pausing, as he half expected it to either explode in his face or for something to leap out at him, Cosmos set the lid aside, before peering into the box's depth.  
  
A book stared back at him, it's title obscured by the simple note lying on top of its cover. Still being cautious, the pryenees reached into the box, withdrawing both the book and the note. His optics brightened as he saw the book was 'Much Ado About Nothing', a play he'd been intent on reading for some time, before he turned to see if the note had any clues as to who had possibly given him such a thoughtful gift. In elegant scrawl, it read:  
  
 _“Sparks are not to be had as a gift - sparks are to be earned”Perhaps chance will be kind enough that I may earn yours. In the meantime though, it seems as if a sly cupid has given mine to you.I pray you will treat it well.  
  
_ The poor astronomer's cheekplates burned with his rising blush, as he quickly put both book and note back into their respective box. Shoving the lid back on the box, Cosmos tried to busy himself with his star charts, his processor still in a reel that he suddenly had a secret admirer.  
  
 **Title: Practical Joke  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Cosmos' thoughts darken  
  
** There was yet another gift in his office. Cosmos shifted his stack of textbooks, struggling to hold the weight, even as he noticed the simple red box sitting neatly on top of his paperwork. Biting his lip component nervously, the autodog was quick to hurry further into the room, purposefully avoiding both gift and desk. He set his textbooks down on an stool he found buried under a series of star charts, turning his attention to his telescope and the numerous tasks he knew he had to prepare for this evening. His earlier notes had marked that a meteor would be making its way through the Nebulos galaxy tonight; as an astronomer and as a simple star lover, Cosmos wanted to be there the moment the meteor made its journey, to witness and analyze any changes that might come about during its travel.  
  
It was hard though to focus or even think about his wonderful stars, when that red box was still niggling at the back of his processor.  
  
Anxiously, the pyrenees glanced over a shoulder plating to the innocent package, his servos tightening around the telescope's circumference. This was the fourth gift he had received from his anonymous sender, with no hint as to whom exactly the admirer was. Only sweet words and more books.  
  
Cosmos did not like it.  
  
Turning his helm away, the astronomer stared down at his pedes, rapidly shuttering his optics to force back the coolant he could feel rising.  
  
It had to be somebody's idea of a joke, all of this, but it wasn't funny. Not one bit.  
  
Rubbing at his face, Cosmos finished changing the dials on his telescope, gently removing the scope from its tripod and packing it up into its special, silk-laden carrying case. Silently, the autodog disassembled the rest of the tripod, packing it and the remaining instruments into another bag. In this, he also slipped his datapad and a few spare pens. Slinging the bag over one shoulder and grabbing the telescope case with his other servo, Cosmos headed for the door; turning off the light and shutting the door behind him.  
  
Not once even thinking about the present he had left untouched on his desk.  
  
 **Title: Annoyance  
Rating: T  
Summary: Some annoyances can't be deterred so easily  
  
** “What are you doing?”  
  
Blast Off ignored the mockingly innocent sing-song question, long claws stroking tenderly down each of  the books' spines. He scoured each of the titles before him, searching for one decent enough for him to pick. Behind him, Vortex smirked, leaning in and resting his chin on the older kittycon's shoulder plating, winding his arms around the other's waist.  
  
“Ignoring me now, Blasty?,” the lynx cooed.  
  
The brown mech elbowed his brother, rolling his shoulder and forcing Vortex's helm away. “Go home,” he replied flatly, not taking his attention off of the books before him.  
  
“Don't want to,” Vortex shot back, leaning casually against the bookshelves now. He bent his helm a little, trying to meet the siamese's optics. “You know, I'm aware you like books and all, but this is almost obsessive. You've already got at least two copies of that one.” The kittycon pointed to the novel that Blast Off had just pulled down from the shelf; his older brother was quick to give him a scathing look in return.  
  
“So..... who are they for?”  
  
The taller mech turned away, heading back down the aisle. The lynx followed along, skipping, his arms crossed behind his backstruts. “Aww, c'mon now,” he grinned, “Don't be like that. Tell me; I honestly want to know.”  
  
“I hardly see how it is any of your concern,” Blast Off snipped, quickening his pace to the cash register. He nodded politely at the smaller femme standing behind the counter, handing her his purchase and reaching for his wallet. Vortex sashayed up behind him, slamming a book down onto the counter as well. The cashier blushed lightly as she glanced down at the cover; the siamese frowned in turn, refraining from rolling his optical sensors at the typical depiction of bodies entwined around each other staring back at him.  
  
With two digits, he lifted the book up, putting the “Guide to Infinite Sexual Possibilities and Positions” off to the side. “I will not be taking that,” he informed flatly.  
  
“You suck,” Vortex whined, but the corner of his lip components were quirked upwards, giving away his amusement. “Why won't you buy me one book, huh? Aren't you supposed to be nurturing my 'language skills'?”  
  
“Go home,” Blast Off repeated. This time, there was the tiniest hint of a growl in his vocalizer.  
  
The poor femme helping them blanched, hurrying now in her task to ring the kittycon through. If he'd cared, the siamese might have offered her an apology. Taking the bag from the cashier, Blast Off quickly spun on his heel, marching stiffly for the door. A hard yank tugged at his rigid tail.  
  
Snapping his helm around, the brown mech narrowed his optics at a grinning Vortex, debating whether or not he really wanted to slit the other's neck cables in public or to wait until he returned home. Unaware of the danger (or possibly well aware and as was common for him, having a swell of a time dancing on the edge) the lynx bounced forward, pecking Blast Off on the cheekplate as his sly fingers curled around the older 'bot's shoulder plating. A warning hiss escaped the siamese, loud enough for Vortex to actually take one step back, clasping his servos behind his backstruts once again.  
  
“You know, nothing you do will make me go away,” he sing-songed.  
  
“Well,” flashed the red visor, “Not until you tell me about your crush, of course.”  
  
Blast Off snorted, continuing on his way silently. Pouting, Vortex hurried after his brother.  
  
 **Title: Bump  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Cosmos runs into someone while at the market  
  
** “O-oh....,” stuttered the pyrenees, taking a step back in surprise. “Umm, h-hello?” Cosmos stared at up at the tall kittycon, feeling even smaller and silly as he clutched his basket to his chestplates. Those cold optics looked down upon him silently, before the siamese was reaching up and easily grabbing the jar of jam the autodog had been trying to get just moments before.  
  
“This is what you wanted, correct?,” he asked, as he held out the item for Cosmos.  
  
Cosmos nodded quickly, his cheekplates beginning to darken with his blush. “Thank you,” he replied softly, taking the jar and putting the jam into the basket. He looked back up at the kittycon, but not knowing what else to say, his gaze was quick to lower once more.  
  
“Well, I-”  
  
“Would you mind if I accompanied you for a while? Just until you finish the rest of your shopping.”  
  
Caught off-guard by the sudden inquiry, the autodog stood there, gaping up at the stranger. Flushing further as he realized the kittycon was actually waiting upon him for a response, the pyrenees glanced down at his basket; mentally ticking off what he had and didn't have, and mostly debating on what he wanted to answer the other mech with. “I-i..... I suppose some company would be nice,” Cosmos eventually said, lifting his chin. He canted his helm at the stranger. “I... I'm afraid I don't know your name.”  
  
The siamese inclined his helm apologetically. “That is entirely my fault. Our last meeting was short, and I did not think to give you my name. Though you had been gracious enough to supply me with your own.” Cosmos tried to wave off the other's apology but the kittycon touched his servo lightly with his claws, before peering deep into the autodog's baby blue optics.  
  
“No, what I did was disrespectful so an apology is necessary. Still, I am deliberating; my name is Blast Off, to get to the point.”  
  
The pyrenees tried not to think of how frightening it was to have those claws resting on the back of his palm.... or how warm. Shyly, he retracted his servo, letting it rejoin its brother around the basket's middle. “That's a lovely name,” he smiled, still feeling nervous. His anxiety though was quickly fading.  
  
Maybe it was the way the kittycon held himself or the gentle, but smart way he spoke, that made Cosmos feel easier in this mech's presence than others of his kin. At his response, Blast Off half-bowed, his arms crossing behind his backstruts as he straightened. “Shall I carry your basket?,” he offered, shocking the autodog once more.  
  
“O-oh, no, no, no,” Cosmos answered, his cheekplates burning brightly again with his blush. “I....I will be alright. But thank you anyways for your kind consideration.”  
  
The siamese nodded curtly, not upset in the slightest at the polite rejection, sweeping out an arm and gesturing down the rest of the aisle. “Let us continue.”  
  
Smiling, the pyrenees took the first step, his new friend falling into pace beside him.  
  
 **Title: Pondering  
Rating: T  
Summary: Blast Off thinks some things over  
  
** Not for the first time, the siamese found himself wondering about this little “crush” that he had. He stared down at yet another box, a compilation of classic poems and short works in one servo, waiting to be placed inside. A part of Blast Off commented snidely that he was being silly, acting some love-sick fool and sending presumptuous gifts and little love notes, like many of the other 'bots that he loathed and despised. Another part of him, a more rational and logical part, noted that he had never once before come across a 'bot, whether kittycon or autodog, that he hadn't felt was a waste of his time.  
  
Of course, the kittycon was aware that it was mostly his intrigue and his growing comfortableness around Cosmos that was spear-heading the majority of his affections, but his spark was still throwing in its own two-cents.  
  
Just like now.  
  
Blast Off recalled that orn in the supermarket when he had run into Cosmos coincidentally while on an errand for his sire. He remembered that flash of surprise he had felt upon catching sight of the little autodog, and then the equally sudden burst of arousal that followed as he watched the adorable pyrenees struggle to reach for the jar of jam just a little too high on the shelf for himself.  
  
Yes, the siamese thought Cosmos was adorable.  
  
His petite stature, his large, accentuated optics; the way his tiny lip components pursed in surprise and the beautiful colour his plating turned as he blushed. Even his plumpness increased his appeal to Blast Off, who, in a strange phase of lust, wished to squish that delectable form under his own and run his claws through that soft looking, fluffy fur. Shaking the inappropriate thoughts from his helm, the kittycon turned his attention back to the book in his servo and the box he was going to put it into.  
  
He wondered, as he always did, if Cosmos had received any of his gifts or if he even cared for them in the slightest. Really, if he had been smart, he would have asked the pyrenees the other orn when they were shopping together, but the thought -and his courage- had slipped away during their pleasant discussions over various classical literature. Truly, Cosmos was proving to be a delight to talk to. That was at least one solid bit of proof as to why Blast Off should feel anything for the astronomer other than total disdain.  
  
Deciding it was pointless to continue musing over uncertain things and the mysteries of one's spark any longer, the kittycon set the book into the box, lovingly setting the lid on and tying both a ribbon and a rose around its middle.  
  
Soon, he told himself, soon he would make his affections really known to the autodog and that would be the time when he discovered if they were any benefit at all, or just another burden among all the others in Blast Off's life.  
  
Secretly, a part of him hoped it would not be the latter.  
  
 **Title: Visitor  
Rating: M  
Summary: Blast Off comes to see Cosmos at work  
  
** “Is that right, Cosmos?”  
  
The pyrenees turned at the question, smiling up at Bulkhead. Today, the young mech had been kind enough to assist him with his work. Needing a more thorough distraction from the delivery of any further packages, Cosmos had kindly taken the mastiff up on his offer. At the moment, the larger autodog was polishing the largest glass at the telescope's top end; turning dials and tightening the tiny bolts as he went. The astronomer hurried up the tiny ladder on Bulkhead's right, peering at the other's handiwork.  
  
“Oh, yes,” he beamed, turning his helm to the technician. “This looks quite fantastic. Thank you for all your help.”  
  
The young autodog blushed, a servo reaching up and scratching behind his ear. “Y-yeah, well, it's n-nothing really you kn-”  
  
The sound of someone clearing their vocalizer startled both the mechs. “Y-yes? Oh! H-hello, Blast Off,” Cosmos greeted, turning slowly on the ladder. “I didn't expect to see you here.”  
  
The kittycon nodded mutely at the pyrenees, his grey, narrowed optics sliding slowly to the other autodog present. Bulkhead stiffened at the glare, shuffling nervously in place. “Well, umm, I-i guess if I'm n-not needed anymore....,” the technician mumbled, before putting down his polishing rag and scurrying from the room.  
  
Cosmos made a sound of a confusion, a servo half lifting into the air, but it was too late. Bulkhead had already gone. Baffled by the other's hasty exit, the pyrenees decided to turn his attention back to his unexpected guest, smiling kindly as he stepped down from the ladder.  
  
“Hello again,” he said, “How are you today Blast Off? Is there anything I can help you with?”  
  
The astronomer noticed then the black box cradled under the kittycon's arm. A lilac ribbon was wrapped tight around its middle, and a simple rose could be seen peeking out from the other side. His fuel tanks roiled nauseously as Cosmos quickly stepped back from the siamese. “Is that.....? Y-you.....”  
  
Blast Off stalked forwards quickly, his gaze suddenly frightening to the small autodog. “Yes,” the taller mech rumbled as he closed in on the pyrenees. “I was your 'secret admirer'.... but it's apparent that my feelings are misplaced. You may keep this,” he shoved the box into Cosmos' stunned servos, “and the other gifts. I have no need for them any more.”  
  
Cosmos didn't know what to say. His knee joints felt weak and his processor was in a whirl, and he could only flinch as his guest reached forward, sliding one claw down the side of his face. For a moment, it looked as if the siamese might say something..... but then his scowl tightened and he pulled away viciously, turning and storming from the office.  
  
Inexplicably, coolant flooded the astronomer's optics; uncertainly, he glanced down at the gift in his arms, catching sight of the note stuck on the front.  
  
 _"Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other"I am not one usually for fanciful words or pretences of affections. Gifts are obnoxious concepts to me, and courtship seems a sly way of manipulating another individual. In essence, it all seems a waste of time.But here and now, I confess, I have never spent more days and nights thinking about one person than I have about you. You still remain unknown to me, as I am certain I am merely a stranger to yourself, but I would gladly spend the rest of my days discovering who you are if you would but give me the briefest of your own attentions.That is why I do not hesitate in giving you my name now. As I did say before, it would be impolite of me to continue to withhold such information, especially when I am writing spark-felt words for your very optics._  
When the stars shine this evening, I will gaze upon them and be reminded of you. And perhaps I may even wish for you to think of me as well. My dearest friend and holder of my spark.  
  
-Blast Off  
  
His neck cables constricted as he read the last of the beautifully written words, the black script swimming before his vision as the tears finally cascaded down his cheekplates and his spark withered painfully in his chassis. Cosmos' helm snapped up, the last of his gifts held in a strangling grip as he stared silently at the open door of his office.  
  
Had...... had the kittycon really felt that way about him? Foolish, messy, ugly, little him?  
  
A small whimper escaped the pyrenees as he crumpled to the floor, still weeping quietly; praying that Blast Off might come back. But well aware that the other mech would never return, and that he had lost a chance he never knew he had, let alone believe was true.  
  
 **Title: Crush  
Rating: T  
Summary: For the first time, Blast Off feels the irony of that hateful word  
  
** Onslaught walked into the room, a broad grin on his face, and his servos cupped behind his backstruts as he puffed out his chestplates proudly. “Well now,” he beamed, staring down at his oldest son sitting at their new kitchen table, “I do believe congratulations are in order, no?”  
  
The siamese sent him a dark glare.  
  
Cheerfulness ebbing a little, the older kittycon marched around the table, taking a seat across from Blast Off. “Come now,” he gruffed. “I understand that you do not like many things Vortex does -and neither do I, for that matter- but when your younger brother sees fit to gossip to me about one of my sons having a crush, I think I have the right to be proud.”  
  
“So? Are you going to tell me about this 'bot yourself? Or do I need to get Swindle to do some poking about?,” Onslaught continued, folding his servos atop of the table.  
  
Blast Off's glare increased before he dropped it down to the book he grasped tightly in his claws. Catching the slight tremors in the other's fingers, and the way his claws dug a little into the leather binding, the rest of the serval's joy was quick to fade away.  
  
“What happened?,” he asked softly.  
  
The concern was the last straw for the siamese. He slammed his book onto the table, jumping to his pedes and stomping for the hallway. “Blast Off!,” Onslaught growled. The brown mech came to an abrupt stop, but refused to turn around and face his sire. “Tell me what happened,” the older kittycon requested, staring at his son's stiff shoulders. “I would like to help if I can.”  
  
Blast Off's frame only stiffened some more. “There is nothing to 'help',” came the low hiss. “I was merely a fool..... A stupid fool.....”  
  
Not waiting for what the other's response would be, the siamese marched from the room; still half-bent in agony, his ears and tails rigid behind him. Alone now, Onslaught sighed, staring at the table distantly as he listened to his normally quiet and well-mannered child storm up to his room, slamming his door as he shut himself away.  
  



	7. Blast Off and Cosmos II

**Title: Loathing  
Rating: PG  
Summary: He hates himself alot  
  
** “Hey, Cosmos you busy?” Wheeljack knocked at the door quickly before walking into the office, looking around for the tiny astronomer. The grin he wore dropped as he finally spotted the other autodog; hunched over and shoulders shaking, with his helm buried in his folded arms, sitting at his desk. Concerned, the bulldog hurried over to his co-worker, hovering about Cosmos anxiously.  
  
“C-cosmos, you..... what's wrong?”  
  
Startling at the engineer's closeness, the pyrenees shot up from his desk, turning his tear-streaked face to Wheeljack. “Wheeljack?! N-no, I mean....,” Cosmos choked, wiping hurriedly at his cheekplates.  
  
The white mech's gaze softened; he reached out, grabbing hold of the astronomer's servo and gently pulling his fingers away from his face. “C'mon,” Wheeljack kindly said, patting the other's shoulder plating with his free servo. “Let's get you calmed down.” At the engineer's prodding, Cosmos allowed himself to be lifted from his seat and lead out of his office.  
  
Ten kliks later found the two autodogs outside; the pyrenees nursing a cup of warm oil in his servos as he sat at a bench, staring down at his pedes. Sitting beside him was Wheeljack, slowly swirling the dregs of his own drink. “So..... This guy you've been talking to a lot, he... he turned out to like you. And he's been the 'secret admirer' that's been dropping off the gifts at your office lately?”  
  
Cosmos nodded his helm weakly, coolant filling his optics again. “I.... I didn't know. A-and,” the astronomer sobbed, “H-he left s-so suddenly. He w-was.... s-so mad t-too. Wh-why? Why w-was he mad?”  
  
Wheeljack wrapped an arm around the smaller mech's shoulder, giving the plating a comforting squeeze. “I don't know why he was mad, Cosmos,” the bulldog replied softly, “But.... maybe you should talk to him? I mean, try and sort this out. I mean, it sounds as if he really likes you, and you, well.... You do too, don't you?”  
  
The pyrenees rubbed frantically at his optics.  
  
Exhaling quietly, the white autodog rubbed at his companion's backstruts, hoping to calm him down further. “Say..... Cosmos.....,” the engineer hesitated, after a moment of silent pondering. “You said that you didn't believe that you actually had a secret admirer in the beginning. Why is that?”  
  
Cosmos did not answer, tucking his chin in more and crying harder.  
  
 **Title: Silence  
Rating: PG  
Summary: It's nothing but silence all over again for him  
  
** The kittycon household was an intoxicating prison of eerie silence and palpable tension. Brawl fidgeted uncertainly on the far right side of the couch, glancing between his sire, Blast Off, Vortex and then back to Blast Off again finally. Onslaught said nothing, but it was obvious that he was sneaking peeks at his children over his newspaper every few astroseconds.  
  
The quiet was shattered as Vortex let out a long, weary sigh, falling backwards and lying spread eagle across  the living room floor. “Would someone just pinch the glitch already?”  
  
“Vortex,” the serval growled.  
  
“Well, I mean, c'mon! The mech's been sitting there, all mopey and slag for the past couple cycles. It's booooooooring.” Vortex completed his complaint with a pout, crossing his arms over his chestplates and glaring at Blast Off upside down. The siamese did not react; servos folded in his lap and dim optics staring flatly at the wall across the room.  
  
Onslaught lowered his newspaper completely now, his gaze noticeably concerned.  
  
“You know what I think?,” the lynx started snidely from the floor. “I think he's just upset because his 'mechfriend' dumped him before he could even take the dweeb on a date, which means he's not getting any. That's why he's so miserable right now -'cause he's horny and in luuuuuuuuurve.”  
  
Stunned silence filled the room this time. Brawl shifted on the couch, scooting closer to his older brother. “Do you want a hug?,” he kindly asked, arms already stretching out. Onslaught was almost glad when he saw Blast Off finally react to the question; grey optics narrowing and fangs peeking out from under his upper lip component. With a muted huff, the siamese rose to his pedes and marched from the room, making sure to kick Vortex in the helm along the way.  
  
Their sire ignored the indignant “Hey!” from his other son, lifting his newspaper and sighing softly as he tried to focus on the editorials. As unsettled as he was by Blast Off's phase of depression (coming from a mech that was usually quiet and subdued with to begin with, this extra pessimism was highly disconcerting), there was nothing really the older kittycon could do to help the siamese.  
  
He could only sit and hope that eventually his son's spark would recover from his apparent rejection.  
  
 **Title: Intervention  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Wheeljack tries to help  
  
** The bulldog shuttered his optics at the house before him, before turning his helm down and squinting at the piece of paper in his servo. The number on the door matched the one scrawled in the note he held, but he was having a hard time believing that this lovely, little three-story house belonged to Onslaught and his kids. Shrugging, because after all it wasn't really his place to judge, the bulldog walked up the driveway, ringing the doorbell. Barely a klik later the door was being opened, a green and blue kittycon greeting him on the other side.  
  
“What do you wa- Oh, wheeljack? Is that you?”  
  
“Umm, hey, Onslaught,” Wheeljack greeted; a servo lifting behind his helm and scratching at an ear in embarrassment. “I hope I'm not bothering you or anything.”  
  
“No, of course not,” the serval smirked, stepping to the side. “C'mon; come in! Let's grab some oil and talk.”  
  
Quickly, Wheeljack took a step back. “Oh, but I don't want to intrude or anything. I just came by to-”  
  
“Nonsense,” Onslaught interrupted, reaching out and grabbing the autodog before he could back away further. With a quick tug, he yanked Wheeljack indoors, shutting the door behind him and leading the engineer to the kitchen. “It's been a while since we last talked. How goes the lab? You made anything explode again?”  
  
“Hey now.... I don't always make things explode!,” Wheeljack pouted.  
  
“Organisms from another dimension,” the serval shot back. Immediately, the white mech shut up. “In either case,” Onslaught continued as they stepped into the kitchen. He helped Wheeljack to a chair. “Since that is a classified matter considered 'non-existent', let's talk about some other things, hmm? I do so enjoy that marshmallow  generator you made- Brawl plays with it frequently.”  
  
“Does he?,” the bulldog asked, finally settling in. It was kind of hard not to when the kittycon was being quite hospitable, and his home radiated warmth. “You know, I've gotta confess Onslaught, I'm a little surprised....”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Well, I mean, uh.... Not to be rude, but this wasn't quite what I was expecting when I came by. You're home, I mean. Well, that is to say-”  
  
Onslaught waved off the rest of Wheeljack's words, coming back to the table with a fresh pot of oil and two mugs. “Don't worry about it. I already know the typical stereotype: Mercenary sire with five kids, each with their own raps, should be living in some slum on the other side of Kaon or some bunker in the woods. I know my house is too 'Betty Crocker' for the rest of those mudflaps to comprehend. Yet, mercenary or not, I am still a military mech and I believe that a good home is one that sticks to tried and true regulations of cleanliness, order and hard labour. Plus, I like the neighborhood.”  
  
The bulldog was unable to stifle the smile at that last statement. Catching the serval's wink, Wheeljack understood immediately that the final bit was meant to be a joke and he chuckled for a moment before taking the drink offered to him. “Good to know.”  
  
The kittycon hummed, drinking deeply from his cup for a klik before turning his full attention to the autodog again. “Speaking of which, that does bring to mind a certain inquiry,” Onslaught began, “Why are you here, Wheeljack?”  
  
The effect was instantaneous. The engineer tensed up, before sighing and pushing away his mug. “Honestly, I wasn't expecting to come here myself. But when I found out that it was your son involved....”  
  
The other's blue optics narrowed. “Wait. Which son?”  
  
Swallowing sharply, Wheeljack stuttered, “B-blast Off....?”  
  
The serval shuttered his optics in surprise. “Blast Off? My oldest son Blast Off? Are you sure he's the one responsible for whatever trouble that's happened and not one of the others? Like, Vortex per say. 'Cause I know-”  
  
The bulldog quickly raised his servos, waving them wildly. “Oh, no, no, no!,” he hurried to explain. “It's nothing really bad like that! I mean, well.... Let me explain.” Onslaught set his servos on top of the table, leaning closer in his seat, showing that Wheeljack had his undivided attention. Cycling a deep intake, the autodog prepared himself to continue.  
  
“There's a co-worker of mine -a really sweet, nice person- and well, recently, I've seen him upset. And I mean, I've never seen him so sad before.”  
  
The kittycon nodded his helm in understanding.  
  
Wheeljack glanced at Onslaught uncertainly, before going on. “Well, you see, I had a talk with him and it turns out that he and this other mech had been running into each other from time to time and talking frequently. They were really hitting it off and becoming good friends. Well, at the same time Cosmos -that's my friend, you see- he'd also been receiving gifts from an anonymous sender. When he found out that they were coming from Blast Off, well-”  
  
“Woah, hold on there for a klik!,” Onslaught interrupted a second time. The larger mech stared down at the autodog. “Are you telling me that your friend is the one that Blast Off had a crush on?”  
  
“Y-you... you knew?!” Wheeljack shuttered his optics in surprise.  
  
The serval shrugged. “Well, I knew that he was supposedly shot down shortly after I found out there was someone he liked,” he replied.  
  
The engineer frowned. “Well, from what I could gather from Cosmos, he was surprised by Blast Off's impromptu visit. Understandably, he was shocked when he found out that your son was also his secret admirer. But before he could respond, Blast Off apologized and said not to worry about anything anymore, then promptly left. Cosmos has been in such a state since; he's taken sick leave, he's been crying so much!”  
  
The mercenary lifted a servo to his face, scratching at his chin. “I see....,” he hummed. After a moment, Onslaught rose to his pedes. “Did you happen to have your friend's address, Wheeljack?”  
  
“Well, no, but-”  
  
“Never mind then. I'll find out from someone else.” The serval gestured to the kitchen doorway, and slowly, Wheeljack stood up as well. Silently, the autodog followed the larger mech back down the hall to the front door.  
  
“Just what are you going to do, Onslaught?,” the engineer asked, pausing on the front porch and facing the kittycon.  
  
Onslaught reached out and patted the bulldog's shoulder plating reassuringly. “I'm not going to hurt your friend or anything, if that's what you are getting at. I'll simply have a talking to with my son, and have him go over and talk to this Cosmos himself. If anything, it sounds like both of them are in a misunderstanding and it'll probably resolve things if they discussed the matter face-to-face.”  
  
It was a good, logical answer. Appeased, Wheeljack nodded his helm, waving at the other mech as he started down the porch steps. “Well, good luck then! Oh, and we should totally have some oil again, or at least some high-grade. You know, to really chill with.”  
  
The serval chuckled lowly. “Of course, pup. Have a good day, Wheeljack,” he called, before turning and shutting the door. Onslaught paused, staring up the stairs before he sighed heavily. “Now if only my stupid sons could stop being such bolt-heads.....”  
  
 **Title: Persuasion  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Onslaught makes his move now  
  
** “Soldier,” the serval called, as he saw Blast Off stalk towards the front door. Onslaught closed the oven quickly, marching over to the doorway. “Where do you think you're going?”  
  
“Out,” his son clipped dryly. The siamese chanced a glance over his shoulder plating and bared his fangs in return to his sire's own glare.  
  
The older kittycon decided not to comment on the disrespect, crooking a finger and gesturing for Blast Off to follow. Silently, the brown mech did; arms crossed over his chestplates and tail stiff behind him as he walked into the kitchen. “We need to talk,” Onslaught said as he headed back to the stove, grabbing a spatula and flipping his sizzling steaks. The grease splattered and popped with the action.  
  
The siamese remained silent to the announcement.  
  
“Tell me about what happened with your crush,” the serval continued. “You approached him and were rejected; that's the story, right?”  
  
Blast Off whirled on his pede and stormed out the kitchen.  
  
“Soldier!,” Onslaught roared. “You turn about face and march right back in here before I court martial you! Do not test me!!” With a snarl, the younger mech stopped, turning around and stomping back into the room a few astroseconds later.  
  
“At ease....,” the green kittycon grumbled, when Blast Off did nothing but glare at him. Scowling, the siamese dropped down heavily into one of the kitchen chairs.  
  
A klik passed in tense silence as Onslaught tended to dinner, leaving his son to sulk at the table. When he was satisfied with the frying of his steaks, the serval turned off the stove top, removing his apron and facing the younger mech. “I am quite aware you're upset with me,” he started coldly, deciding to ignore the hateful look Blast Off sent him. “But I do believe I have a right to bring this matter up.”  
  
“How?,” snarled the siamese lowly.  
  
His sire bared his fangs in return. “By the fact that Wheeljack came here just the other day, telling me that one of his colleagues is suddenly missing work at the moment because one of my screw-loose creations upset him!”  
  
Blast Off shuttered his optics nonchalantly.  
  
“You,” Onslaught added, stomping up to son and looming over the sitting kittycon, “Will go to see Cosmos and apologize for your misconduct. Whatever may of happened, you were in the wrong for leaving things in a state of chaos.”  
  
“But, he-”  
  
“YOU. WILL. TALK. TO. HIM!!!,” the serval roared, cutting off the other's hiss. The siamese bit his glossa quickly, his optics thin slits. Reaching into his pocket, Onslaught pulled out a folded sheet of paper, slamming it onto the table. Huffing, the older mech pulled back, retreating to the stove again.  
  
“Dinner will be ready in about a couple cycle's,” he informed, opening the oven door and checking on his roast again. “You have until then to go and see this mech and resolve this matter between the two of you peacefully. His address is written there. You are not to come back until you've talked.”  
  
Onslaught glared over his shoulder plating. “And I will know if you have or not. So don't even try being wise like your idiot of a brother, Vortex.”  
  
Tight-lipped, Blast Off rose to his pedes, grabbing the paper off the table and stalking from the kitchen, fuming. The sound of the door slamming shut heralded his exit.  
  
 **Title: Wrong  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Blast Off wonders if he really needs to apologize  
  
** There was a small, little cafe just across the street from Cosmos' apartment. Tucked in between an old bookstore and an aging natural healing pharmacy and centre, the cafe only had about five tables and fourteen chairs, but the oil was fresh and the smell of home-made biscuits was pleasant enough for Blast Off. Of course, what really sold the place to the kittycon was the fact that there was only two other customers aside from himself and they were all keeping quietly to themselves. He'd almost call this place heaven, if it weren't for the fact that it was really purgatory.  
  
His sire had threatened that he would not be allowed home until he'd talked to Cosmos..... dinner was in a cycle, and the siamese was nowhere closer to being able to cross the street and buzz the autodog.  
  
Blast Off's grip tightened a smidge around his mug as he hurried to suppress his scowl.  
  
Did he really need to apologize and make up? What for?  
  
After all, he had been the one who'd been made a fool of. Irrational or not, he felt quite justified in his response. And besides, it wasn't as if he'd flown off the handle or anything, like his brothers were more prone to do. He had been curt and quick; leaving before either of them could have embarrassed themselves further.  
  
Maybe he had been a little too hasty......  
  
The siamese chastised himself silently, tearing his gaze from the window and his constant vigil over Cosmos' building. This debate -and the fact that Onslaught had made valid enough points- were what had carried the kittycon this far as it was. Either cowardice or pride was holding him back from crossing the street and taking the last step. If he could only make up his mind which of those two were responsible, and if he really felt guilty enough to humiliate himself some more, then maybe he'd finally be able to do something other than just sit there, debating.  
  
Apparently just thinking about himself being a coward was the last straw.  
  
Silently, Blast Off rose from his seat, throwing his unfinished oil into the trash and heading out the door.  
  
 **Title: Answers  
Rating: T  
Summary: Issues are finally brought to light, and some insight is given  
  
** “C-coming!,” Cosmos called hoarsely, wiping at his optics and shuffling for the door. Figuring it was Wheeljack come to check up on him again, or possibly even Bulkhead, the pyrenees opened the door, sighing softly.  
  
“Listen, really, I'm al-”  
  
The rest of his words were cut off when he looked up and saw Blast Off staring back at him silently. “Bl-blast Off....,” Cosmos whimpered frightfully. He backed away quickly. “Y-you're not.... You sh-shouldn't be here! I mean-”  
  
The kittycon reached out, slapping a servo on the door before the autodog could slam it in his face. “We need to talk,” he declared, pushing the door open more and walking into the other's apartment. Cosmos meekly let himself be backed further into the room, his optics wet with tears and his servos anxiously clenched in his sweater as Blast Off locked the door behind him.  
  
“P-please.....,” the astronomer begged quietly, “Pl-please.... j-just go. Please, l-leave.”  
  
The kittycon crossed his arms behind his backstruts, lowering his chin, trying to appear less threatening. “If that is what you really want of me....,” he replied flatly, “Then I shall do as you request. But first, I must know: Why are you crying?”  
  
Cosmos let out a little gasp, recalling belatedly the tears that had streaked down his cheekplates. He spun away from Blast Off, hurrying to wipe his face some more and smother his sorrow in the presence of the siamese. The autodog was caught off guard when a larger servo grasped his, pulling it away from his face.  
  
He found himself face to face with the kittycon, the brown mech staring back at him, kneeling on one knee joint to be more level with the pyrenees; waiting still for the answer to the question he had asked.  
  
“I-i....,” Cosmos stuttered. He shook his helm suddenly, pulling himself out of the other's grasp violently. “It's n-not as if you care!”  
  
The flat gaze narrowed at the accusation.  
  
“Was it your younger partner? Has he rejected you?”  
  
“No, he- I mean..... what?” The astronomer shuttered his optics up at Blast Off in confusion, actually forgetting about his tears and the like for one moment. “W-what are you talking about?”  
  
Blast Off straightened up, his arms once again folding behind his backstruts. “That autodog pup; the mastiff. The one who looked at you with utter adoration in his optics.” The siamese's lip component slightly curled at that last bit, his disgust barely concealed behind his mask of indifference.  
  
Oh, how he hated that mutt.  
  
It took astroseconds for what the kittycon had said to register in his processor. Gaping in shock, Cosmos waved his servos about desperately, his cheekplates darkening in his flustered state. “N-no, that's, th-that's not right! Bu-bulkhead is only a f-friend! A friend! H-he o-only worships a h-handful of us f-for our sc-scientific achievements -nothing m-more!”  
  
The brown mech was silent and slowly, the pyrenees lowered his servos back down by his sides. On the tip of his glossa was a question he just didn't have the courage to ask, and a thought to himself that maybe, just maybe, Blast Off had been..... jealous?  
  
“Then clearly I was in the wrong,” the siamese spoke up after a klik, startling the astronomer. “I had presumed too much, and upset you needlessly. I apologize.....”  
  
Anxiously, Cosmos smiled up at the other 'bot. “It's.....it's alright. Really.”  
  
Blast Off looked almost disbelieving at his statement, but did not refute the autodog. Instead, he bowed his helm, slowly turning towards the front door. “I'm sorry that I caused you trouble. I will leave now, as I had agreed.”  
  
“W-wait!”  
  
The siamese paused at the brazen cry, turning to face the smaller mech again. Cosmos was looking up at him, optics crinkled slightly with his anxiety and his servos trembling as he twisted them in his sweater's hem. Swallowing sharply, the pryenees glanced to the floor quickly before bringing his gaze back up to the other mech. “C-could,” he stuttered, his courage quickly faltering again. Cosmos cycled an intake shakily, steeling himself for the rest of his question. “C-could we.... could we still be friends? If, if y-you don't mind that is. I-i mean, I-”  
  
“Yes,” the kittycon answered, halting the other's doubts before they could overwhelm him once more. Glancing upwards, Cosmos was almost stunned to see a sliver of warmth reflected in the taller mech's grey optics. His spark pulsing in response, the autodog struggled to keep both his fears and the giddy little smile from rising to his face.  
  
Blast Off crossed the apartment again, grasping the astronomer's servo as he bent low again to be level with him. “I will remain near you, as long as you will it,” he said. He raised Cosmos' servo a little to his face, as if he was about to kiss it, but stopped before the other's knuckles were even close to his lip components. Grey optics shuttering slowly, the siamese quietly stroked the back of the pyrenees' palm with a thumb before releasing his servo entirely.  
  
“Goodnight Cosmos,” Blast Off politely continued, rising to his full height again. “If you do not mind, I will call on you tomorrow. Would that be acceptable?”  
  
“O-of course,” Cosmos replied, smiling this time. He had been unable to keep it back for long.  
  
With a nod of his helm, the kittycon turned around for a final time; leaving the apartment for the rest of the evening and a calmer autodog in its space. Padding up to his door and locking it after the other's exit, Cosmos turned and leaned against the door heavily, his optics fixed to the floor beneath his pedes as he swooned slightly.  
  
His gnawing doubts and fears were returning again in Blast Off's absence, but even they could not strangle the shred of hope within his chassis. That he might have not completely lost the siamese's friendship amidst all this confusion put the autodog at rest. Cosmos felt ever so glad.  
  
Tonight, he mused, perhaps he would be able to get some proper recharge.


	8. Blast Off and Cosmos III

**Title: Lunch  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Blast Off comes to the lab again  
  
** True to his word, Blast Off came to see him the next day. Cosmos, back at work, was just putting away a series of star-charts, when there came a crisp rap on the door. Turning to see who it was knocking, the pyrenees felt his spark give a little whirl as he faced the kittycon; grey optics focused on him alone.  
  
“I apologize for the interruption,” Blast Off said, “I hope I am not catching you at a bad time.”  
  
“O-oh, oh no,” Cosmos quickly replied, wiping his servos on his lab coat nervously. He slowly crossed the room, glancing in embarrassment at his messy office. “I, um, I w-was just tidying up a little before going out for my lunch break.”  
  
The siamese cocked his helm slightly at the statement, thinking for a moment. “Then, if you are favorable to the idea, may I accompany you during your lunch?,” he asked, his expression amazingly neutral. “In the most politest and friendly respects, of course.”  
  
The smaller mech had not thought of the suggestion as a date, until Blast Off had added that tiny comment at the end. Unable to stop the heavy blush coating his cheekplates, Cosmos shyly glanced at the floor, playing with the buttons of his lab coat distractedly. “I-i would appreciate the company very much,” he answered, smiling foolishly he was certain. The autodog was already excited at the prospect of having lunch with his friend.  
  
Tipping his helm forward lightly in acknowledgement, the kittycon crossed his arms behind his backstruts, his deep gaze having yet to leave the pyrenees. “I am ready to depart when you are,” Blast Off politely said.  
  
Flustering in surprise, Cosmos quickly turned around and padded for his desk, collecting his things and mentally berating himself for simply standing around like some lost puppy. Cheekplates aflame with his embarrassment, the astronomer returned to his friend, silently following Blast Off out of the lab and downstairs.  
  
 **Title: Passion  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Cosmos has himself a companion while works  
  
** “....I am curious,” the siamese  began, glancing up at the night sky above, “How does a study of the stars count as science?”  
  
Little clangs came from the autodog moving about behind him busily. Turning around, Blast Off watched as Cosmos set up his portable telescope; adjusting the tripod and fiddling with little dials around the scope's circumference. “Well,” the pyrenees answered softly, his attention spliced between the kittycon and his calculations. “It does lend to the field of science to a certain degree, simply because of the planetary changes that can occur with various celestial developments. Solar flares, black holes, gravitational pulls of large inter-stellar bodies.... Everything within the universe is connected, in a sense, and they play off each other in ways that are both beneficial and, well, chaotic.”  
  
Cosmos paused in his explanation, tapping away at something on his datapad, before glancing up at the star-lit sky and adjusting the telescope's angle. “By keeping track of the things that occur closest to us, we are then able to approximate how our planet will be affected -whether that be through weather, atmosphere, organic life.....,” the green mech continued. “We are then able to take some precautionary action, depending on the type of result a cosmic shift makes. As well, there are many scientific advances to be made to medicine and the like through discoveries in space. The universe is, forgive me saying, truly magical in all sense of the word. What other body of creation do you know of, that without any influence, grows, expands and unveils another wonder of life beyond mortal engineering?”  
  
“We may never fully comprehend the universe, but by studying it, we are able to find new resources, new answers, new molecular compounds and formulae that then aid us in our own growth and development.” Cosmos paused, looking up from his work finally and turning his passionate-lit optics to Blast Off. “I-i'm sorry, I must sound a little s-silly.....,” the pyrenees added, smiling self-consciously at the ground, “It's j-just that, I love w-what I do and I'm a-afraid it's made me a b-bit of a fanciful fanatic....”  
  
“Do not apologize,” the kittycon interrupted. Surprised, Cosmos looked up, finding himself pinned by Blast Off's deep, penetrating stare. “Never apologize for being passionate about something you care deeply about. Those who would demand you feel shame for such things do not respect you, and they are not worthy of your respect either.”  
  
The autodog shuttered his optics at the strong blend of words. For a moment, it fell silent between them both.  
  
“You do much good.....,” Blast Off said after a klik, turning his optics to the stars. “You deserve much recognition for your achievements.”  
  
“T-they're...... they're not really achievements,” the pyrenees shrugged, blushing, gathering the rest of his supplies and stacking them together neatly for later. “I-i mean, I d-don't do a-amazing things like o-our lead scientist P-perceptor, I j-just watch s-some p-pretty stars.”  
  
“Even watching 'pretty stars' can impact a life.” Cosmos straightened up slowly, his spark pulsing erratically beneath his chestplates as he faced Blast Off again. No matter how many times it happened, he was still amazed to find those thin, grey optics focused on him; staring deeply into the poor autodog's spark, yet never judging, never weighing him. Just merely..... almost.... connecting with him.  
  
Clutching his datapad to his chestplates tightly, the astronomer smiled shyly, interpreting the simple statement as something else. Something secretly wanted. “I suppose they can....,” the autodog quietly agreed. The siamese gave a short nod in response.  
  
Put at ease by the motion, Cosmos turned back to his telescope, finishing up his arrangements and settling behind the scope to complete his work for that night. Blast Off seated himself on the grass not too far away from the pyrenees, glancing frequently over his book's lip towards the merry mech as the evening stretched on.  
  
 **Title: Pretend  
Rating: PG  
Summary: His resolve is stronger than his desires  
  
** Because of his promise, he had to pretend.  
  
Pretend that they were simply friends, talking and seeing each other frequently. But just friends.  
  
It was his punishment, the siamese surmised, and his way of apologizing to Cosmos after having hurt the astronomer so. He'd already made his verbal apologies, so all that was left, was to show in his actions that he was sincere in what he had said. He never wanted to hurt the pyrenees ever again, just as much as he never wished to believe (or see) anyone being that close with Cosmos.  
  
It had been a miracle that the autodog had even wanted anything to do with Blast Off after his horrendous actions and so, the brown mech did not wish to make the same mistakes again. It's why he had made a secret promise to himself to keep his affections checked and veiled, so they would not upset the smaller mech anymore.  
  
But he could feel himself struggling.  
  
Never had there been a challenge such as this: to have the only 'bot he'd ever cared for so deeply know of his feelings and yet, to not be allowed to show, share or even act upon them. Sometimes, Blast Off almost broke his pact. Especially in those moments when it was just him and Cosmos alone in the astronomer's lab, discussing a range of topics, both fascinating and engaging.  
  
He'd been tempted to lean down and kiss the pyrenees when his smiles had been the softest and his optics bright stars in their own right.  
  
Only ages old, beaten-in military  training kept him from doing so.  
  
After all, the kittycon was only a friend and this was how he promised to never hurt Cosmos again.  
  
 **Title: Leaving  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Blast Off has to go  
  
** There came that familiar, sharp rap at his lab door, before a series of near-silent pedesteps entered into the room. Snapping a cog back into place, Cosmos quickly wiped his servos off on a rag, walking around his ladder's platform quickly, trying to see his guest around his massive telescope's girth. “Hello Blast Off,” the autodog greeted cheerfully. “How are you doing today? I'm sorry I'm so messy; I was fixing the -ooomph!”  
  
In his haste to get back down the ladder, the little mech tripped on the second rung, falling to the floor. Before he even had time to panic, Cosmos was being scooped out of the air and gently set back down on the ground. Blushing with embarrassment at the kittycon who had caught him so easily, the pyrenees tried to steady himself on his uncertain legs, staring down at the floor shyly. “I-i.... t-thank you. V-very much. I....I would not l-like to ponder w-what might have happened i-if you hadn't been here to catch me.”  
  
Blast Off did not respond to that, and a little confused by the siamese's unusual silence, Cosmos looked up from his pedes. He was not able to maintain optic-contact with the other mech for very long though. “I-i probably s-should go c-clean up then....,” the astronomer said, speaking aloud in his self-consciousness. “I h-hadn't expected you to be h-here so early. But it's fine. I-i made t-too much extra for my lunch today. If y-you'd like, you a-are free to have some. We c-could sit in courtyard and t-talk, i-if that's what you want. I d-don't-”  
  
“Cosmos.”  
  
The call of his name -the first word spoken by the kittycon this orn- caught Cosmos' full attention. He paused on his way to his desk, his lab coat folded in his arms. “Y-yes....?,” the autodog hesitantly pressed, noticing the stiffness about Blast Off's ears. “Is something wrong?”  
  
Blast Off shuttered his optics, before silently lowering his helm a tad. The gesture made the pyrenees spark begin to whirl wildly, dread filling his fuel tanks heavily. Seeing that his friend was working himself into a panic, the siamese quietly strode towards Cosmos, kneeling to be more level with the green mech as he gently stroked one of the plump cheekplates.  
  
“I must leave for a few days,” Blast Off answered blandly, confirming some of the autodog's worse fears. The kittycon cocked his helm slightly as tears slowly formed in Cosmos' optics; the smaller mech attempting to turn his face away from his friend to keep him from seeing their presence. The brown mech gently tipped Cosmos' helm back towards him though.  
  
“I will return,” he continued, his vocalizer a tad more defined as he said these words. His thumb wiped away at one of the tears that fell in the autodog's surprise. “I wished to inform you before I departed tonight. I did not want you to worry.”  
  
Even though this shocking news sent periodical twinges of pain to his spark, hearing that Blast Off had specifically come so as to spare the pyrenees the fright of finding out the kittycon would be gone, a flash of warmth went through him; starting first at Cosmos' pedes and blazing all the way to his anxious spark. Touched, that's what he was. Smiling softly, the astronomer quickly shuttered back the rest of his tears, looking up at his friend.  
  
“O-okay. Thank you for telling me,” Cosmos replied, “I hope that your journey goes well and that you come back safely.”  
  
Grey optics shuttered slowly, before the kittycon nodded and rose to his pedes again. “Shall we head down to the courtyard?,” Blast Off prompted gently, reminding him of the invite the autodog had given him before he'd spoken.  
  
“O-oh! Yes!,” the pyrenees flushed in remembrance, turning back to his desk and gathering his things frantically. Smiling wryly -in both embarrassment and joy- Cosmos padded back for Blast Off's side, allowing his friend to take their lunch containers. They headed out of the lab together, conversing softly with each other as they walked.  
  
 **Title: Tension  
Rating: T  
Summary: Is it wrong to regret leaving?  
  
** Two figures crept low through the foliage, keeping out of range of twig and rock alike; using the softly blowing wind as a cover as they tip-toed through the long grass. The facility lied up ahead, surrounded by twelve-foot tall electric fencing with barbed wiring along the top. Easy to get over, if you knew how.  
  
“What pathetic security these morons got,” the lynx at his side sneered quietly. “Primus, it's like they were sitting all pretty like, waiting for us to come and frag them up the aft.”  
  
Blast Off ignored the crude comment, measuring the height of the fence, the distance to the nearest tree and the approximate time between each guard rotation within in this corner. No doubt they had motion sensors set along the inside of the grounds to set off the alarms. Calculations done, the siamese headed for the tree, scaling up and into its thick branches without any sound. Vortex watched him for a moment, before he too slunk back across the field and up the tree as well.  
  
“What's wrong, Mr. Sour puss?,” his younger brother grinned. “You seem a little tenser than usual. What? You pissed that big, bad daddy sent you off on a mission with lil' ol' me?”  
  
Blast Off did not rise to the bait.  
  
Thinking deeply, the lynx stroked at his chin, his grin turning devious. “No.... no, that wouldn't be it. You've dealt with me numerous times in the past; it means nothing to a cold, hard killer like yourself. After all, you're a professional,” Vortex cooed, a servo sliding sensuously over his brother's arm. The older kittycon shook it off quickly, sparing a quick, hateful glare in the other's direction. “No..... it must be your little crush. Are you missing your lil' mechfriend? Do they know you are here right now?”  
  
The siamese said nothing, unstrapping his sniper rifle from behind his back and pointing it toward the facility.  
  
The grey mech giggled in glee, as if he'd discovered some secret treasure. “No, no he doesn't, does he?” Vortex cackled, his fingers tip-toeing up Blast Off's back struts. His brother unlocked the safety with a threatening snap. “Hmmm.... sounds like a pacifist,” he continued, unconcerned about his well-being, even as Blast Off's aura grew darker, “Must be an autodog. They always were such a weak, sentimental race....”  
  
Vortex trailed off as the rifle gave a small hiss of release; the only sign that a shot had been made. Looking over Blast Off's shoulder, he saw the guard that had turned into their corner of the compound crumple to the ground, dead. Slinging the rifle back into its holster quickly, the siamese rose to his pedes, climbing up higher, before leaping across the field and over the dangerously buzzing fence. Vortex scrambled to follow, grinning like a loon the entire way.  
  
“I think I like this side of you, Blasty,” he purred insanely, grabbing the corpse and dancing with it to the facility's door. Blast Off said nothing as he ripped the access card off of the dead mech's frame; swiping it through the keypad before punching in the entry code. “You're much more fun when you're all stressed out as you are. Concerned for your life...... longing for your lil' puppy.....”  
  
The brown mech yanked the corpse out of Vortex's servos as they entered into the building, the door shutting automatically behind them. He leaned into his brother's face, upper lip component lifted slightly with a snarl. “You know what to do,” he said lowly, reminding Vortex of their mission.  
  
The red visor flashed giddily, the younger kittycon pressing closer in return until their lip components were almost brushing. “Of course,” Vortex grinned, his tone lilting a little in song. “Don't fist yourself too hard now while I'm gone.” With a quiet cackle, the lynx slid around his brother's form, disappearing quickly down the hallway and into its inky shadows.  
  
Blast Off watched him go silently, before glancing at his watch, double-checking the time mutely.  
  
 **Title: Missing You  
Rating: PG  
Summary: He misses him more with every passing klik  
  
** It was quiet.  
  
Cosmos sat at his desk, shuffling through his paperwork slowly, occasionally stopping and glancing over his shoulder plating. He'd stare at the door to his office for kliks on end, before he shook his helm and turned back to his star-charts and calculations.  
  
When a sharp sound echoed softly outside in the hall, the pyrenees would perk instantly in his seat, whirling around with his optics shining brightly in hope and his lip components lifted in a small smile. But each time, there was no kittycon standing at his door; no siamese walking into the room quietly and greeting him.  
  
He felt sillier and sillier with every backwards glance.  
  
Staring at the floor, Cosmos slowly turned his chair back to the desk, shuttering his optics quickly to keep the flood of tears at bay. He had thought he'd be alright with Blast Off leaving for a few orns; thought that it was something manageable for him to accept.  
  
The autodog had not anticipated how quiet and alone his lab would feel without the other mech's frequent visits, or even how much his spark would miss his dear friend.  
  
 **Title: Return  
Rating: T  
Summary: Blast Off makes his way home  
  
** It had been a long journey. He'd trekked several cycles through wild terrain, stowed away in the back of a small shipment truck transporting frozen meat for a few more cycles, before sneaking out at the nearest turn-off and spending the next orn and a half hiking through low-level trenches and sparse woodland back to Iacon.  
  
And all with his insane brother by his side.  
  
By the time that Blast Off made it into the heart of the city, he was worn down, a little dirty, more than exhausted enough and his patience was waning quickly. Warm, dawn sunlight pushed as best as it could around Iacon's prominent finance district, spilling down onto the sidewalks and warming the beginning morning traffic crowd as they went about, starting their business for the orn. Vortex slipped off into the throng of passersby at the first chance he got and Blast Off didn't bother trying to track down his irresponsible brother. Onslaught would handle him, in his own time.  
  
At the moment, the siamese was supposed to be heading back to his sire himself, to inform him that the mission had completed successfully and that they had the downloaded data for their client. Blast Off was half-way to the subway, before he suddenly changed course, and headed for the pinnacle of Iacon's city hall that he could see from his position.  
  
His aching limbs increased pace as he got close and closer to city hall; almost jogging as he turned the corner and saw the Science labs to his left.  
  
By-passing front desk security, who already knew him and didn't bother to stop the kittycon, Blast Off took the stairs, climbing them quickly to the top level -Cosmos' lab. He knew he was disobeying orders and he was certain that a punishment would follow for not first reporting in..... but Blast Off didn't care. A spark of rebellion bloomed under his chestplates, exploding and roaring into an inferno. Onslaught could be upset with his son if he wanted to be, but the siamese knew that the one who most deserved his notification of return first was the very mech he'd been forced to leave behind.  
  
The kittycon slowed his pace just a tad as he exited out onto the final floor, patting down at his dirty shirt momentarily, before he continued briskly to the autodog's lab. Blast Off didn't even bother to knock before he entered, for-going his usual manners in his haste to see Cosmos. To see his astronomer's lovely smiling face again.  
  
Cosmos was just crossing the room slowly, his helm turned down meekly and his arms laden with old file folders. At the sight of the brown mech entering into his office, the autodog gave a little yip in surprise, dropping all of his things. Blast Off slowed to a pause at the unexpected reaction.  
  
“B-blast Off?!,” the astronomer whispered breathlessly. Trembling servos rose up to the pyrenees' face, his optics filling rapidly with tears. “Y-you..... y-you're back! I..... I-i t-thought.....”  
  
Blast Off didn't wait for the rest of Cosmos' words. Immediately, the siamese closed the last of the distance between them, dropping to his knees and pulling the autodog up into a desperate kiss. The green mech gave a muffled yip at the sudden action, before his arms wrapped as tight as they could around the other's shoulders; Cosmos half-crying into the kiss.  
  
The kittycon hugged the astronomer to him, breaking the kiss to plant warm, tender little ones all across the pyrenees' face; a servo lifting and wiping away his tears with his thumb. “I'm sorry,” Blast Off whispered in sincere apology; his cold voice warmer, “I am sorry. About leaving, about surprising you, about kissing you..... It was necessary that I see you first. I needed to know you were okay. I could not resist.”  
  
Cosmos shook his helm weakly, his servos grabbing Blast Off's servo and squeezing tight. “I-i, I d-don't mind,” he whimpered, looking up into the taller mech's optics. “I.... I c-couldn't.... I w-was afraid....”  
  
Though he knew it was selfish, the kittycon kissed Cosmos again. He kissed him roughly, easing out the pressure until it was almost feather-soft and keeping his mouth molded tight against the autodog's, feeling slowly as all the tears and anguish bled out of the pyrenees. Only when he felt Cosmos start to relax in his hold, did Blast Off slowly break off their kiss, easing back, optics fixed entirely on the green mech's and his servo gently grasping one of the autodog's servos.  
  
“To you, I shall always return,” the siamese promised lowly, “For my spark longs to be near yours at all times. And with you, it'll forever remain.... if you wish to have it.”  
  
Cosmos shuttered his optics in surprise at the spark-felt words, feeling his own spark begin to pulse and whirl anxiously. He couldn't believe that Blast Off was asking him to be his mechfriend and making such enormous promises. This.... this was all too good to be true! Slithering doubt pushed its way into the autodog's helm, whispering to him in its coy, conniving voices. Telling him that the kittycon was lying, that he didn't really feel such things for the other. That he would fail on all of his promises. But.... Cosmos thought, swallowing sharply, that wasn't true..... Hadn't Blast Off promised him before he left that he'd return? Hadn't he followed through with everything that he'd ever said, since the two mechs had made up a few months ago?  
  
The astronomer's optics flared brightly as he realized this, his cheekplates darkening with a blush as he turned his focus back to the waiting kittycon. This mech had once told him that he loved him. He'd been hurt and jealous when he had thought Cosmos was with someone else, and quietly left again rather than interfere and hurt the autodog. Cosmos had been hurt greatly though when Blast Off had done that, and he had never felt happier than that orn when the siamese had apologized and they became friends. Everything after that Blast Off did or said displayed the sincerity of his spark and all the affections he still carried for the smaller mech.  
  
Feelings that Cosmos realized now that he shared.  
  
Smiling despite his optics quickly filling with tears again, the pyrenees squeezed the kittycon's servo, stepping closer to the surprised mech. “It feels as if I've waited my whole life for you,” he whispered, reaching up and setting his servos on Blast Off's shoulders. The brown mech leaned down a little, pressing foreheads with the small autodog, looking deeply into each other's optics. “I.... I w-want to share my spark with you as well. I-if you'll t-take it.”  
  
For the first time ever, Cosmos saw the grey optics flare, and the barest hint of a smile tug at the kittycon's lip components. “I accept,” he replied, taking one of the astronomer's servos and kissing the back of it softly.  
  
Spark pulsing with bliss, Cosmos giggled a little, snuggling closer to Blast Off; happy that both his feelings and this mech were returned to him.


	9. Vortex and Fireflight III

**Title: Trick or Treat  
Rating: M  
Summary: It's finally Halloween  
  
** Fireflight wasn't surprised when servos lashed out from the bushes, dragging him off the path and into the dark enclosure of trees. In fact, the sparkling didn't even scream, and when the fingers slipped away from his mouth, the shih tzu turned and beamed up at the mech crouching casually behind him. “Vortex!”  
  
“Hey, cutie,” the lynx smirked, his visor flashing as he looked down on the autodog. “Miss me?”  
  
Fireflight nodded his helm quickly, jumping to his pedes and hugging the kittycon. “I did!,” he chirped in reply. “My brothers made me stay inside again for a whole week, even though I was in class the next morning.... but at least they let me out tonight!”  
  
Something that the sparkling was very glad for. He had never had the chance to go out on Halloween before, so this would be his first year ever trick-or-treating and Fireflight hated the very thought that he might have missed it. So far, this was turning out to be the best night ever though! He had collected a fair bit of candy already, he was dressed in a brand new costume that Air Raid had helped him pick out and he'd even got to see his strange, older friend.  
  
The little autodog didn't think he could be happier.  
  
“And look at my pretty costume!,” Fireflight giggled, stepping back and twirling in place; his flower-pattern skirt billowing with the motion and his bucket swinging wildly on his wrist, spilling a couple treats to the grass below. “Can you guess what I am?”  
  
Vortex merely purred. “Delicious?”  
  
“N-no.....,” the autodog blushed, stopping his spinning and facing the kittycon with a shy smile. “I'm a fairy! A very, pretty, powerful fairy!”  
  
Fireflight threw his arms out, this time losing his little pumpkin basket. “O-oops....,” he whispered, hurrying to pick it up and his scattered candy. A strong servo was winding about his waist, pulling him back before he got a chance though.  
  
“V-vortex..... m-my candy....”  
  
The sparkling looked up into the grey mech's face, before dropping his chin, and staring in embarrassment at the grass below. Vortex chuckled lowly at the self-conscious act; his fingers moving to slide down one of the autodog's thighs. “Don't worry so much, snowflake,” he growled lustfully, close to panting as he saw those gorgeous cheekplates start to turn a delicious shade of magenta, “You can pick it up later..... First, show me your _'candy'_.”  
  
Fireflight gasped softly at the demand, turning his flushed face up to the kittycon. The red visor flared in response, and slowly, the shih tzu took a small step back; bunching up the bottom of his skirt in his fists and lifting it to his chestplates. At the click of retracting plating, Vortex's ears twitched and a greedy grin stretched across his cheekplates.  
  
The tiny 'bot could only choke back a moan as, in the next moment, he was pushed to the grass, and the lynx's helm thrust between his trembling thighs.  
  
 **Title: Costume  
Rating: T  
Summary: His costume got ruined  
  
** “O-oh....”  
  
Vortex turned his helm at the whimper, zipping up his fly as he stared disinterestedly down on the sparkling softly pushing himself up. Fireflight had his whole attention fixed on his clothes, picking at the skirt and his shirt, twisting his helm and sniffling as he saw the state of his clothe fairy wings.  
  
“E-everything.... my c-costume, i-it's.....,” the sparkling choked on a fresh wave of tears, “It's ruined....”  
  
And in a way, it was really. The once white shirt was now covered in dirt and grass stains, the clothe wings were bent and  tearing around the edges, and a bit of the skirt had ripped and it was filthy with the after-effects of their recent 'face. All together, Fireflight looked horrible.  
  
“It was just a costume,” Vortex pointed out flatly.  
  
The shih tzu sobbed loudly at the statement, his tiny servos curling into fists and lifting to bunch at his optics while tears cascaded down his cheekplates. “B-but.... b-but it w-was b-brand n-new! A-and m-my first c-costume e-ev-ever!,” Fireflight bawled, intakes heaving as he cried harder. “I-i-i, I j-just wa-wanted to g-go o-out a-and g-get ca-candy, and h-have f-fun a-and l-look p-pretty f-for you a-and now e-everything's r-ruined a-and-”  
  
The lynx growled quietly, thrusting a servo forwards and pressing one long digit against the white mechling's lip components. “Ssh!,” he scowled, as the sparkling shuttered his optics in surprise, before looking up at the kittycon with his wet, blue orbs. “Stay here; I'll be right back.”  
  
Vortex turned and pushed through the thick foliage. He paused, turning his helm back, visor dimmed in ire. “And no crying!,” he added, before he left entirely, a poor Fireflight sitting in the grass confusedly as he mourned over the ruin of his new costume.  
  
 **Title: Changes  
Rating: T  
Summary: Fireflight thinks a little as the night draws to a close  
  
** Fireflight had never really thought much about Vortex.  
  
Well, aside from considering the strange mech his friend and looking forward to his visits, as was general with many sparklings his age, the shih tzu never analyzed or pondered over his standing with the kittycon. But....  
  
But things were a little different now.  
  
Fireflight was getting closer to being another stellar cycle older, and well, he had heard about crushes from the other mechs and femmes at school. It was natural, they said, to want to spend all your playtime with another 'bot, and to like to hug them a lot. Even kiss them. Normally, such a thing meant very little to the sparkling, because he hugged and kissed and played with a lot of different people all the time. Things though were definitely a little unusual with Vortex, yet it had never really been a cause for contemplation beforehand.  
  
Of course, that was until tonight.  
  
When the lynx had come back after abandoning the shih tzu in the bushes, Vortex had revealed that he had a brand new costume for Fireflight alone! It was all white, and shimmery, with pretty flower cuffs and neck collar and even a flower belt. And the wings! Oh, the wings! They were sheer, pink wings coated in copious amounts of glitter and they practically fluttered with every movement Fireflight made. Changing his old, ruined costume for this new one, the sparkling's tears dried up and he was giggling and prancing about again, in utter joy over Vortex's thoughtful gift.  
  
And it didn't stop there either!  
  
When Fireflight eventually made it back to the street and knocked on the few doors still giving out candy, before he had time to get upset again that he had missed out on a lot of the trick-or-treating, a shadow had charitably dropped off a giant bag of goodies for the autodog at the spot where he was supposed to wait for his brothers to pick him up.  
  
Fuel tanks doing little flip-flops and spark whirling madly in his chestplates, the sparkling found himself starting to like Vortex more and more, and he swore he'd thank his friend later for his wonderful gifts.  
  
“Hey Fireflight! How's it..... woah. Big load you got there.”  
  
Turning at the call, Fireflight skipped over to Skydive and Air Raid, throwing his arms around the red mech's legs and hugging tightly. “Hi Ar-ra! Hi See-dee! I had so much fun tonight! I want to go trick-or-treating again next year! Can I? Can I? Can I, pleeeeeease?”  
  
Skydive smiled wryly, bending down and patting the smaller shih tzu's helm. “Well, we'll see, alright? Halloween is a year away, after all,” the youngling pointed out. Fireflight attempted to put on his best puppy dog pout, but both his brothers merely laughed, shaking their helms. “Come on, we must get back now. You still have school in the morning,” Skydive said.  
  
“And I think we'll need some time to sort through your stash before bed too,” Air Raid slyly interjected.  
  
“Oh yeah!,” Fireflight chirped, spinning around before skipping down the sidewalk merrily. Skydive and Air Raid merely watched him for a moment; the red mech reaching down and grabbing the sack of candy, almost as big as their younger brother, and slinging it over one shoulder plating.  
  
“..... I don't remember,” Skydive mumbled, leaning closer to the other shih tzu as they started after the happy sparkling, “Is that the same costume you bought Fireflight?”  
  
“...honestly, I have no idea.....”  
  
 **Title: Late Night Out  
Rating: M  
Summary: Vortex returns home late  
  
** Sometimes, Blast Off wondered why he even opened his big mouth.  
  
“.....you're happy,” he deadpanned as Vortex strutted through the back door, lip components stretched in a slag-eating grin and humming some primus-awful, cheery tune.  
  
“Indeed I am,” the lynx purred. “Interested?”  
  
Blast Off debated on whether or not to answer that question.  
  
At that very moment, Onslaught decided to walk into the kitchen as well. Seeing the cheerful state of his third son, he grumbled, “Let me guess. You went out 'trick-or-treating' too?”  
  
Vortex giggled, clapping his servos together gleefully. “Oh, right you are daddy-o! And I had myself a good ol' time too. Sucked some lollipops, nibbled some gummies, ate some pudding cups......” The lynx purred, his grin turning downright lewd. “I had myself some _very_ delicious sugar snacks.”  
  
“....room, now,” the serval pointed, one servo pinching at the bridge of his olfactory sensor as he tried to refrain from kicking his son in his codpiece. Humming again, the grey mech obediently skipped from the kitchen, dancing upstairs and to his room.  
  
Once he was out of hearing range, Blast Off asked, “High grade or Vosian grade?”  
  
“Neither,” Onslaught grumbled tiredly. “Just give me the pitcher of rocket fuel beneath the cupboard, behind the bleach.”  
  
Turning, the siamese bent to retrieve the requested item as his sire collapsed into one of their new kitchen chairs.  
  
 **Title: Arts and Crafts  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Fireflight makes a gift during class  
  
** “Alright everyone; settle down now,” the teacher said, speaking a little loudly to be heard over the din. The sparklings continued to babble for a few astroseconds longer, before they all fell silent and obediently turned to face their teacher. Pleased with the response, the femme continued. “Now, I hope everyone's finished their Valentine Day cards -you have all worked very hard on them- but now it's time to give them to your friends. When I blow the whistle, you can all get up and put your valentines in each others' bags. Okay?”  
  
“Okay,” piped the children.  
  
Smiling, the teacher blew softly into her whistle, and immediately the sparklings jumped to their pedes and started winding around the room; talking and giggling as they dropped a valentine into each of the bags seated on all of the desks. It took a moment for the femme to realize that she couldn't see one helm among the others, and confused, she glanced around the room. She was somewhat surprised to see Fireflight still seated at the crafts table.  
  
“Fireflight, sweetie,” the femme started kindly as she came up behind the shih tzu, “What are you doing? You're supposed to be giving your valentines to your classmates.”  
  
“O-oh!” Fireflight's helm snapped up as he was suddenly addressed, looking back at his teacher slightly embarrassed. “I.....I already gave them my valentines, m-miss.”  
  
She was shocked by that. “Oh? So what are you doing then dear?” The femme leaned forward a little, to catch a glimpse of what the sparkling was up to. She wasn't too sure if she should be surprised or not that he was working on yet another valentine -this one obviously different from the rest he had made earlier. Smiling softly, she turned her gaze back to the little mech, saying, “Is this for someone special?”  
  
Fireflight's cheekplates darkened with his blush and he dropped his gaze shyly; a happy, little smile still tugging at his lip components though. “Y-yes,” he answered, glancing at his unfinished card. “I-i'm almost done! I promise I won't take much longer!”  
  
The teacher giggled, patting the shih tzu's helm. “It's alright, Fireflight. You can stay and finish your card while I take everyone else out for recess.”  
  
The sparkling's optics lit up in joy and he turned about in his seat, hugging the femme's legs. “T-thank you miss! Thank you ever so much!!”  
  
“Just don't take too long now,” she warned lightly, patting the student's helm again and turning away from the table. She blew her whistle to get the other sparklings' attention, before clapping her servos and declaring that it was recess time. At once, everyone rushed for the door, eager to get outside and play, except for the one tiny autodog who stayed behind to finish his special valentine.  
  
 **Title: For his own good  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Blast Off intervenes  
  
** “.....what are you doing here?”  
  
The little autodog on their front porch jumped at the question, whirling around on the spot and facing the siamese as he lightly ascended the steps. It didn't take long for Blast Off to recognize his brother's favourite toy, and it took even less time for him to become somewhat annoyed.  
  
“Why are you here?,” he repeated coldly, not all concerned about the shih tzu's discomfort.  
  
Fireflight repeatedly lifted his helm and dropped it again, before finally keeping his chin tucked in and his gaze fixed to the floor. “I-i-i-i.....,” he stuttered, clutching the paper card to his chestplates tightly. “I-i, uh, w-wanted to.....”  
  
The sparkling's cheekplates darkened with a blush and he fell quiet entirely.  
  
The kittycon scowled disdainfully upon the smaller 'bot. “Vortex is not here, nor should you be,” he said, walking past the sad autodog and pulling his house keys out from his coat pocket. “I suggest you leave before my sire returns home- he does not take kindly to children loitering about.”  
  
“O-oh, b-but I.... I wanted to give V-vortex this!”  
  
Blast Off inclined his helm to the shih tzu, his gaze narrowing as he stared down at the card thrust out to him. Fireflight was looking up at him anxiously, fidgeting as the siamese continued to do nothing but stare, eventually pushing the card against the older mech's frame, babbling quickly, “I-i'll go now s-so I d-don't get you in trouble, b-but please give th-this to Vortex! I-it's important!”, before the sparkling turned and tore down the driveway.  
  
Grasping the card with two claws, the kittycon lifted it up to his optics, snorting as he took in the childishly drawn hearts and flowers and glitter spattered across the front of the paper. If it wasn't for the fact that he had given Cosmos something this very orn, Blast Off could have very well forgotten that today was Valentine's Day. A stupid holiday for stupid people..... and this sparkling was probably the biggest fool of all.  
  
Walking into the house, the mech headed straight for the kitchen, opening one of the lower cupboards and dropping the card into the trash.  
  
He felt nothing as he closed the door and turned to leave the room. After all, this was for Fireflight's own good.  
  
 **Title: Cuddle  
Rating: T  
Summary: Fireflight gets a surprise  
  
** There was something warm against his back. That was the first thing the sparkling registered as he slowly began to wake, shifting a little and curling into his sheets. Normally he was well and warm when he went to sleep, but this was different than usual. This was stranger....  
  
Something wormed under his blankets, stroking down a thigh, and terrified, Fireflight gasped, twisting about in his berth. He was immediately pinned to the mattress by the servo covering his mouth. “Hush, snowflake,” Vortex cooed, looking down on the shih tzu, “You look as if you've seen a ghost.”  
  
Slowly, the fingers retracted from the autodog's face, tracing down his neck cables and drawing little patterns onto his chestplates. “B-but....,” Fireflight mumbled, torn and perplexed, “M-my brothers....” He glanced to the side, seeing that both Air Raid and Slingshot's berths were empty.  
  
“No need to fret, cutie,” Vortex purred, bending down and licking at the sparkling's neck. “The older ones went out to do a little shopping, and that loud one is just downstairs getting the mail. They didn't want to wake you up when you were looking so precious in recharge.”  
  
The news surprised him a little. Turning his attention back to Vortex, the shih tzu shyly said, “B-but.... y-you'll get in t-trouble if S-slingshot s-sees you.....”  
  
The kittycon chuckled, canting his helm to the side and propping it against one fist. “Concerned about my well-being, snowflake? I'm touched. But you know, it'd be hard for a virtuous mech _not_ to want to crawl into berth with you and molest your delectable lil' frame as you slept..... And I'm not virtuous.”  
  
Fireflight tried not to whimper as the servo at his chestplates dipped lower, tracing down his hip line before sliding around and groping at his tail. Though he didn't understand what Vortex had just said, it still did not change the fact that the lynx had willingly climbed into berth with him and now lay simply beside the autodog -touching, yes, but not interfacing. Something that was unusual in the sparkling's processor when he associated 'berth' and 'Vortex' together. Perhaps this meant that the grey mech had liked his Valentine card?  
  
Spark whirling joyfully at the thought, Fireflight rolled into Vortex's chestplates, snuggling closer, to the kittycon's surprise. “I love you Vortex,” the sparkling mumbled softly, his smiling face pressed tightly into the other's shirt.  
  
He missed the stunned expression that came over Vortex's face and the way that the lynx had fallen oddly silent at his little confession.  
  
 **Title: Trash  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Vortex takes out the garbage  
  
** Poking at one dented cheekplate, the lynx dragged the kitchen garbage out behind him as he stalked around the side of the house, heading for the garbage cans sitting on the street curb. Fascinated with the different points of pain he could create by pressing against certain areas, Vortex wasn't paying any attention to what he was doing, so when the garbage bag snagged on a rock, it tore, spilling trash all over the front yard.  
  
“Slag....,” Vortex grumbled, looking over his shoulder plating at the mess. He really didn't want to clean this up, but he'd already pissed Onslaught off enough times this orn. Anymore, and his sire really would send him to solitary confinement in the middle of nowhere.  
  
Scowling, the kittycon lowered himself to the ground and began to grab everything with one servo, throwing it back into the bag through the tear in its side. He paused though when he noticed something bright red peeking out from beneath some peels. Vortex grabbed the mysterious item, shaking off the rest of the waste and bringing the now confirmed card towards himself, studying its crumbled form and the glitter half-melted off of the front.  
  
“Snowflake....?,” he mumbled to himself confused, recognizing the familiar scrawl. Quickly, the lynx peeled the ruined card open, his visor flashing as he read the words within. He was silent for a moment once he was done, his expression blank, before he tucked the crumpled valentine away; scowl darkening and glare turning up to the house.  
  
 **Title: Confrontation  
Rating: M  
Summary: Things get a little tenser in the kittycon house  
  
** Blast Off avoided the punch as it came, hearing plaster crack and crumble as the fist went soaring past his helm and into the wall behind him. At the growl that followed next, he lowered his book, eyeing his younger brother disinterestedly. “.....yes?”  
  
“Don't 'yes' me, you pompous mutt-fragger!,” Vortex hissed back, hackles risen. “You've been trying to keep my snowflake away from me, haven't you?!”  
  
“I believe at this point and time, you are the only one 'fragging a mutt',” Blast Off coolly pointed out, turning and continuing down the hall again. He was forced to stop when his book was next punched out of his servos and he was shoved against the wall.  
  
“You let Fireflight out of my room that one time, didn't you?,” the lynx snarled, pressing in close to the siamese. “I thought it was weird, what with all my passwords and him being such a good, obedient, little sparkling..... And no one else would dare go upstairs to my room. I bet you threw out that card I saw in the trash too, huh?”  
  
The brown mech refrained from commenting on that last bit. “You mean if father had been the one to find him first, you'd have been beaten to a pulp and that autodog never to return,” Blast Off shot back, his fangs bared as he began to lose his patience. “You seem to think that I care whether or not I upset you with the things I do, when the reality of the situation is I refuse to let my own reputation be tarnished because of your sick, deprived hobbies.”  
  
“As if your any better, Mr. Anti-Social. Maybe I'm not as discrete about my quirks as you are,” Vortex sneered, “But don't even think for a second that you're actually better than us, Blast Off. What would your beloved mutt think if he knew that you're nothing but a cold, ruthless killer with a long trail of bodies behind you.... and no guilt or remorse to speak of? Hmm?”  
  
The siamese's optics narrowed and he lashed out, snapping under Vortex's guard to grab at the other kittycon's throat before slamming him into the opposite wall. They rattled with the force of the impact, and the light fixtures above clattered loudly in response.  
  
“No fighting in the house!!,” shouted Onslaught from downstairs.  
  
The two mechs did not reply, glaring at each other darkly; Blast Off pressing hard against Vortex's throat, and the other kittycon holding the tip of a short dagger along his brother's stomach plating. Claws tightening a smidge, the siamese inched a little closer, his optics mere slits as he stared into his brother's disgusting face. “You stay away from him, or I shall do more than simply send the sparkling home every time he foolishly comes looking for you.”  
  
“I'd like to see you try,” the lynx hissed, his smile twisting upwards sharply.  
  
Blast Off squeezed tighter, growling as the dagger dug deeply into his plating, sending a sharp pain across his sensory grid. “I grow tired of your games, ingrate,” the older mech snarled lowly, ignoring the blade as it pressed deeper. “Come anywhere near my mech and I shall _kill_ you -this is not some light threat. The consequences will outweigh the sick enjoyment you get from tormenting that child.”  
  
The red visor flashed and the siamese bit his bottom lip component sharply as the dagger was thrust further into his plating, cutting the sensitive wiring underneath. “I'll never stop,” Vortex growled hoarsely from his position against the wall. “Fireflight is _mine_ to play with until _I_ decide I don't want to anymore! Interfere again and your lover-mutt will be my next target.”  
  
Quickly, the lynx twisted his blade just as his brother's optics flared in rage; a roar escaping Blast Off in pain, as he crushed Vortex's neck cables tightly, punching the other kittycon with his free servo. Holding back the rest of his curses and snarls that wanted to escape him, the siamese let the shorter mech drop to the ground, before turning around, scooping up his book and stalking off to his room. Only pained coughing filled the now silent hallway as Vortex pushed himself up into a sitting position slowly, his visor chipped and small flakes of the red glass dropping to the floor.  
  
“Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posie,” he sing-songed through his damaged vocalizer, cackling softly as he rubbed at his bruised neck cables, “Hush-ah, hush-ah, we all fall down....” The insane grin had yet to leave the lynx's face, even as he watched Blast Off disappear behind his slamming berthroom door.


	10. Onslaught and Skydive

**Title: Bump  
Rating: PG  
Summary: They meet a second time  
  
** Skydive almost felt the urge to curse, as, yet again, he rounded the corner with his arms laden with books, only to smack into someone and drop everything to the floor. Tired and more than thoroughly embarrassed now, the autodog dropped to his knees, quickly gathering the scattered items while mumbling half-whimpered apologies in response.  
  
“I-i-i'm, uh, I'm j-just really, umm, s-sorry. I-i.....”  
  
“Well, well, well.... Didn't think I would be seeing you again,” the stranger rumbled humorously, sinking to one knee before the shih tzu and helping him to collect his things. “Skydive, right?”  
  
Blushing, Skydive snapped his helm up, fumbling the book he had just recently grabbed. As it hit the ground with a thud, embarrassed tears collected in the corner of his optics and the autodog quickly bowed his helm, servos covering his face. “I-i'm sorry,” he choked, wiping hurriedly at his face. “I'm s-so sorry, I-i just-”  
  
“Hey now,” the other mech interrupted, gently resting a servo on the younger 'bot's shoulder. “Come on. Let's get you to your pedes. Then maybe you'll feel like telling me what's on your processor?” The shih tzu allowed himself to be pulled up, sniffling, as he finally pulled his fingers away from his optics and glanced up at the stranger.  
  
“I....I'm sorry,” he mumbled to the serval, “F-for troubling you. A-and making you g-get my books, and, a-and.... and f-for forgetting your n-name. Oh, Primus, I a-apologize prof-fusely! E-even t-though you r-remembered m-my name, I c-can't-”  
  
Skydive shuttered his optics quickly as a large finger was pressed to his lip components, silencing the rest of his words. “Listen kid,” the kittycon said, “There's no need to apologize. You look like you've got a lot on your mind right now. Let me help you with these books and get you a mug of oil, until you feel better again. Fair enough?”  
  
Slowly, the larger mech pulled his finger away. Blushing again, and trying his hardest not to let his thoughts linger on the tingling he could feel along his lip components, the shih tzu merely nodded; holding his arms out to take some of his belongings back from the kittycon. The serval shook his helm though, pushing Skydive's servos down before slinging an arm around the smaller mech's shoulder plating and leading him forward. “Forget it, pup. Let Onslaught take this load for you.”  
  
Unable to do anything else, Skydive dropped his gaze to the floor, whispering, “T-thank you. F-for being so kind.”  
  
Onslaught shrugged at the thanks, glancing down at the quiet autodog before looking forward again. “....Did something happen?,” he asked, after a few astroseconds of silence. Skydive looked up at him confused. “I was simply wondering. You don't see many cry unless something is weighing on them heavily....”  
  
“O-oh,” the blue autodog gasped, recalling the horrifying fact that he had indeed gotten teary-opticed before this stranger. Blushing, he rubbed his arm self-consciously, stumbling as he tried to offer an explanation. “W-well, I, umm.... I- it's s-silly really. I-i was j-just having s-some problems w-with my enrolment f-forms, a-and I...... I, uh, just, i-it's n-nothing serious r-really.”  
  
“Now, don't say that,” Onslaught replied, stopping. Still held under the kittycon's servo, Skydive was forced to stop as well, and he felt suddenly very small now as the other mech loomed over him. “Do you have those enrolment forms on you? Maybe I can offer you some assistance in finishing them. You did say you were applying for Iacon Academy, correct?”  
  
Skydive hesitated, but eventually reached into his knapsack, pulling out his forms. He silenced his anxious yip as the green 'bot took them from him, shifting the books in his arms, until he was able to unfold the forms easily, scanning them quickly and reading them over. “Ah.....,” the serval said, “You need to file your parents' and your own taxes for the last couple years, if you've worked, seeing as you've been made eligible for a scholarship.”  
  
Onslaught paused, flipping the papers slowly. Just as the shih tzu began to get more nervous, a grin stretched across the older mech's faceplates. “You're aiming for a Masters in Business Administration and Tactical Strategy?” The kittycon glanced at Skydive. “You aim high, pup.”  
  
Blushing, the blue mech bowed his helm, clasping his servos before him self-consciously. Turning his attention back to the forms, Onslaught scanned through them one last time, before folding them up and holding them out for Skydive to take. “You seem to have everything already well taken care of. You'll need to write an essay before their final selection, but they give you a broad spectrum of topics -most of which, judging by your reading list, I'd say you're well and prepared for. And otherwise, you just need to fill out your financial information for the scholarship. Something I'd highly recommend doing. Free money from the government is hard to get. If they're offering it to you, nab it while you can.”  
  
“And if there are problems filling out that section,” the serval continued, “You can easily by-pass that step, simply by writing a letter and providing legal documentation. That should still allow for you to get your scholarship and complete all necessary procedures for your enrolment.”  
  
Skydive took the papers, looking first at them, then up at Onslaught in wonder. “I, u-um..... thank you,” he breathed, a relieved smile tugging at his own lip components finally. “Just.... thank you so much!”  
  
Onslaught gruffed a little, glancing at the side. “No problem, pup. Just trying to be a help,” the kittycon replied. “Now, I still owe you a cup of oil. And if you'd like, you can use me as a board to bounce ideas off of for your essay.”  
  
The bigger mech turned to walk onwards again, and pausing a moment to put his forms away again, Skydive eagerly followed, feeling much better than he had been kliks before. “Thank you, again, for everything. You've been so very generous, and I would certainly enjoy your company for a little longer,” the shih tzu beamed, coming up to the other 'bot's side.  
  
The kittycon said nothing this time, but merely led them forward, his tail twitching gently behind him.  
  
 **Title: Worth  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Onslaught muses  
  
** It was a quiet orn. Onslaught cracked open his newspaper, sinking into his recliner and sighing as he thumbed through the pages for the latest criminal activity. The usually irate sire felt a strange bout of melancholy as he lifted his helm, watching as Blast Off walked by  the living room; heading out the door, dressed up nice, and a book under one arm.  
  
No doubt to go meet his new mechfriend.  
  
“.....They're all growing up so fast....,” the serval mumbled to himself, a touch of sadness in his tone. Swindle, he recalled, had left home when he was sixteen, claiming disdain for his family and needing his space to plant his entrepreneur roots. Blast Off and Brawl still remained; one leaving often though to meet up with his love interest and likely to move out soon himself, while the other one was bound to stay forever because of how socially and mentally inept he was at independent living. Vortex.... well, Vortex needed a constant babysitter, twenty-four seven, or there would be a higher spike in the missing persons percentile but otherwise, the older kittycon held little sway over the lynx's life.  
  
All in all, his sons no longer needed him anymore. He was useless really; obsolete. More likely to be shipped off to the nearest retirement home and left to rot with the other, unnecessary seniors.  
  
Onslaught sank deeper into his chair, scowling as he lifted his paper to his face again. But not even the inky words of civil troubles overseas could erase the nagging thought from the green mech's processor. A haunting question that incessantly demanded, 'Do I mean anything to anyone, anymore?'  
  
 **Title: Celebration  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Onslaught is interrupted during shopping  
  
** “Onslaught? Onslaught, sir!”  
  
The serval started at the unexpected shout, almost dropping his bag of frozen mini cogs, as he turned to face the exuberant speaker; watching, surprised as Skydive jogged up to the mech, holding a basket to his chestplates. “I-i'm so sorry to bother you,” the shih tzu apologized, coming to an abrupt stop before the kittycon, his cheekplates darkening with his blush and his intakes heaving a little with the sudden run. “I j-just hadn't expected to see you here, and well, umm.....”  
  
Skydive shook his helm quickly before beaming up at the still-stunned Onslaught, chirping, “I was accepted! My essay, my forms -they were processed and I am now going to be a proud student of Iacon Academy come this fall!”  
  
Immediately, Onslaught smiled back, throwing his bag of frozen goods into his own basket before clapping the smaller mech on his backstruts. “Congratulations, pup,” he grinned, oblivious to the meek bout of coughing Skydive gave at the rough touch. “Good job. You've worked hard.”  
  
“O-oh.... well,” the autodog mumbled, glancing down at his pedes as he shifted his basket; the blush on his face deepening, “I-i-i..... I really d-didn't do all the work. I m-mean, you, um, you h-helped me a-a lot, and well, I w-wanted to tell you personally and..... a-and possibly, i-if you're not too busy, maybe I-i can buy you a c-cup of oil -to repay you, I mean! For all the help you gave me.”  
  
The serval opened his mouth, ready to say 'no', when his fuel tanks did a strange, little flip flop. It had been a long time since he'd done anything of worth it felt; longer still since someone had so graciously thanked him and boasted about all the assistance he had offered. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, Onslaught thought, to let the shih tzu treat him to a mug of oil.  
  
At the very least, Skydive was a great conversationalist, and he was not likely to feel bored in the younger mech's presence.  
  
Despite the slightly nagging feeling Onslaught still felt in the back of his helm, he smiled down on the waiting autodog, saying, “A cup sounds good right about now. But how about you let me treat you to it? I've got some good grind at home, and it'll allow us to chat freely in relative privacy, without the additional worry that our groceries might rot the longer they remain unrefrigerated.” To make his case in point, the kittycon lifted his basket a little, showing off the mass amount of goods -both perishable and not- that he had so far collected.  
  
Skydive's mouth stayed open slightly, his optics dim behind his frames as he obviously went over the pros and cons of the other mech's suggestion. And with good reason, Onslaught supposed. He was a very big 'bot.... and still mostly a stranger, to boot.....  
  
Eventually though, before the serval could open his mouth to retract his invite, the blue autodog smiled up at the him, his unease clean from his face and shoulders. “I think that'd be lovely. I-if, if it's not a bother, of course,” Skydive quickly added.  
  
Onslaught rumbled a little in mirth, holding his basket securely in one arm before gesturing to the rest of the supermarket with his other servo. “Not at all, Skydive,” he assured, “Not at all. I'll let you do the honors.....”  
  
Blushing again, the shih tzu took the lead, falling into comfortable conversation with the serval as they continued their shopping.  
  
 **Title: Joke  
Rating: T  
Summary: Some things began to take form  
  
** The crash in the living room had him throwing his dishrag into the sink. “I SAID NO FIGHTING IN MY HOUSE!!,” Onslaught roared, turning to the kitchen doorway; torn between standing there and hoping his unruly children would settle down, or storming -huffing and panting- into the living room and exacting punishment on the parties responsible.  
  
“A-ah, oops,” came Brawl's muffled voice through the walls, “Sorry daddy!”  
  
Someone else snorted, before Vortex's voice drifted into the kitchen next. “What are you apologizing for, Brawly? Did you make the big boom? ....Hmm, I suppose you did. You make big booms often, dontcha big mech?” The lynx snickered. “Daddy-o could use a 'big boom'. Maybe it'll loosen him up some.”  
  
Onslaught curled his fist.  
  
“Huh? What do you mean....?,” came the younger serval's question.  
  
You could just hear the smirk in Vortex's vocalizer. “Well, you see, daddy-o's been all alone for _so long_ now, and no one's wanted to touch his sp-”  
  
“VORTEX!!,” the green mech bellowed, slamming the counter beside him for extra emphasis. He dutifully ignored that the marble crumpled and cratered beneath his fist at the action. “ROOM! NOW!!”  
  
There was some grumbling that could be heard from the living room, plus a little of Brawl giggling, before a hissing comment was made by the lynx. “I SAID _NOW_!! OR I'LL VOLUNTEER YOU FOR SPIKE AMPUTATION!”  
  
That got the effect he wanted. With a half-whimpered, half-snarl, Vortex could be heard stomping out of the living room and up to the attic he usually skulked in. Maybe if he was lucky, the uncontrollable brat would stay there for the rest of the evening. Fuming still, Onslaught returned to his dishes, doing his best not to crush them in his servos as he resumed washing.  
  
So maybe he hadn't had a good interface in a long time. Been kinda hard when he was trying to raise four of the most crazy, unruly brats this side of Cybertron. And really, he'd need a slag load of self-service if he wanted to unwind some of the “stress” Vortex alone gave him. All in all, finding a frag -too much work, and hardly worth the effort.  
  
Realizing that he needed to calm down some (as he'd just cracked a plate clean in half while mulling over Vortex's comment in the living room astroseconds before), Onslaught busied himself with less negative thoughts. Strangely enough, those turned out to be his past few discussions with that young autodog he had run into, Skydive. The pup was smart.... and polite. Not to mention so very open-minded and eager to learn.  
  
Immediately, the serval's shoulder plating slumped a little and his scrubbing became less violent.  
  
Even his facial expression relaxed some and, unbeknownst to Onslaught, a small smile began to work its way to his lip components.  
  
 **Title: Happy  
Rating: PG  
Summary: His brother makes a comment  
  
** “See-Dee.....?”  
  
Skydive stopped his chopping, turning a little and gazing at the shih tzu that padded into the kitchen behind him. Fireflight was clutching a turbo fox plushie to his chestplates, and his blue optics were large and inquisitive. “Yes, Fireflight?,” the older mech asked, turning away from his brother for a moment so he could slide the chopped bolts into a boiling pot of water he had set on the stove. “Is there anything you needed?”  
  
“No.....,” Fireflight replied, smiling. “I just wanted to ask if you were happy, See-Dee. You seem happy.”  
  
Skydive shuttered his optics at the strange comment, bending down a little so he would be more level with his sibling. “Well, I-”  
  
“Is it because of your new friend?”  
  
The blue autodog shuttered his optics again, this time in surprise. He had indeed mentioned Onslaught in passing to Silverbolt, but he'd never made reference to the kittycon in the presence of the others. Where Fireflight might have heard about him, Skydive wasn't sure, but now he was left to answer the sparkling's curiosity. Before he could open his mouth though, the white 'bot was continuing.  
  
“Is your new friend nice? Is that why you like him, See-Dee? I bet he is. I bet he's a really good friend, if he can make you happy,” Fireflight chirped. “I think you should be with him more often, See-Dee. Does he make you feel bubbly and ticklish inside too?”  
  
There was too much in those words that Skydive didn't feel like addressing, but the 'too' right at the end of his brother's questions caught his immediate attention. “'Flight..... i-is, is there someone you haven't told us about?,” he asked, optic ridge cocked uncertainly.  
  
The smaller shih tzu giggled, pressing his blushing cheekplates into his plushie and swaying side to side lightly. “It's a secret,” the sparkling teased.  
  
Skydive's look became more concerning. His littlest brother -with a crush? “Fireflight.....”  
  
Fireflight giggled again, snapping his helm up and hugging the older mech tightly. “I hope your new friend stays, See-Dee,” he whispered into his brother's ear. “He makes you happier.... and I like it when you're happy. I want you to be happy always.”  
  
The blue autodog tried to turn his helm, to look at the sparkling, but Fireflight merely kissed his cheekplate, before running out of the kitchen, giggling the entire way. Stunned, Skydive stayed half-kneeling on the floor, before he heard the pot begin to hiss and bubble dangerously behind him.  
  
 **Title: First Day  
Rating: T  
Summary: It's Skydive's first day at the Academy  
  
** Between running around the large building, getting to his classes and trying to find a suitable place to sit that didn't anger or upset anyone..... Skydive was beat. Emotionally, mentally, and a little physically. It seemed the majority of his peers and the lecturers in his course were very unhappy people, and they certainly didn't take kindly to the autodog's youth, shyness or even his politeness. So when Skydive saw that he had a two cycle lunch break before his final class of the orn, the shih tzu was practically running for the doors and freedom from this stuffy, dreary building.  
  
Unfortunately, he collided with something just as he was making his get-away.  
  
“Oomph!”  
  
“.....pup, we really need to find better ways to meet each other....”  
  
“O-onslaught?!,” Skydive gasped, snapping his helm up and looking at the kittycon. The green mech grinned wryly, helping the shih tzu steady himself before releasing him. “What a-are you doing here?”  
  
“I had the day off; was in the area..... I figured I'd come and see how your first day was going.” Onslaught shrugged. “You look like you were fleeing right about now. One of the teachers coming after you with an axe?”  
  
“....not quite....,” Skydive mumbled tiredly at the subtle joke. His shoulders slumped and the autodog grasped his books tighter to his chestplates, glancing over his shoulder plating and at the school. “Things are.... not exactly as I would have thought they'd be. Perhaps I have spent too much time envisioning this moment, that my expectations have been a little.... unrealistic. Still. This is what I want, and so, I will manage.”  
  
He turned back to Onslaught, missing the strange look that passed over the older mech's face. He did see the smile though that tugged at the other's lip components, making the shih tzu blush and become self-conscious about his complaining. “I-i'm sorry, I sh-shouldn't b-be wh-whining, I-”  
  
“Don't worry about it,” the serval politely interrupted, waving a servo. “Life can be fairly disappointing all around. It's really a matter of what you do with the hand you get, that decides what becomes of your life and I'm proud to see you sticking through with something that you've got your spark dead-set on -hardship or not.”  
  
Skydive had to quickly bow his helm as his blush increased.  
  
Onslaught rested a servo gently on the autodog's backstruts, leading them down the steps and out of the way of a gaggle of students. “Are you on lunch break now? Would you mind if I treated you to something? I feel like a small reprieve would be most beneficial to you right now. Get you back up on your pedes and all that,” he said.  
  
The offer surprised the blue mech. But, mulling it over quickly, Skydive couldn't see him doing anything of importance in the next couple cycles, and he really didn't feel like being alone. “I would like that very much,” he answered, smiling up at the kittycon.  
  
He never noticed the way Onslaught's optics flared, or the twitch his fingers gave, or the way his cheekplates seemed to tinge just the slightest with energon. But quickly, those signs disappeared, and the older mech was asking him a place that the autodog might like to go to and what his thoughts were on the outlook of his program. Feeling comfortable in the serval's presence, Skydive easily replied to all of the questions asked, the engaging conversation easing the last of the stress from his frame.  
  
 **Title: Realization  
Rating: T  
Summary: His feelings are no longer innocent  
  
** These days, Onslaught had a hard time keeping his thoughts in order.  
  
The kittycon could only hold one person responsible: Skydive.  
  
Since the moment he had met the autodog, he'd been intrigued by the other's wisdom, propriety and his love for a good, sound strategy. And of course, those blue optics..... They were delicate things, behind yellow, circle frames, that held no arrogance or malice in their depths but a calm and collected understanding of everything around them.  
  
It wasn't long before mere interest turned into desire and Onslaught found his recharge cycles plagued by fantasies of that smart mech becoming all debauched and wordless as he was conquered by the serval; thighs spread willingly and beautiful optics dim as the shih tzu begged his 'General' to take him. Enflamed with his lust, was it no wonder that the kittycon was in a funk?  
  
He had to approach Skydive again; had to proposition the younger mech in the correct manner so he would not reject the green 'bot. Onslaught was not like his idiotic son -he did not grab and take, with no care for the consequences afterwards.  
  
But certainly, the serval would not allow Skydive to be claimed by anyone else, until at least he'd had a fair shot at winning the autodog over.


	11. Soundwave and Tracks

**C.M.D: The story of how these two end up together features in With Perfect Abandonment, but my love for them certainly doesn't end when their story there ended. Thus, I found myself writing snippets of how their lives continued, after the main fic.  
  
Chapter 11: Soundwave and Tracks  
Rating: PG  
  
** Tracks didn't know what he was going to do with those boys.  
  
“Rumble! Frenzy!,” the pomeranian yelled, turning away from the mangled mess on the floor. He just couldn't bear to look at the sight any longer. There was the pitter-patter of scurrying pedes, and Tracks could only scowl further.  
  
Crossing his arms over his chassis, the autodog said aloud, “If you two don't come here _right now_ , I'm grounding you to your rooms, taking away all your electronics, and _you_ can explain to your father why Kaon is ready to terminate their contract.”  
  
Within a klik the twins were standing before him, grinning up at their creator weakly. “Hey mommy......”  
  
Tracks narrowed his optics, changing position so that now his servos rested on his hips. If they were calling him mommy again, then they were aware of how much trouble they were in. “Please tell me why you had to play in this room? Surely you are aware of how fragile all these are, and how precious they are to me!,” the pomeranian exclaimed. He glanced up at the remnants of his vast crystal sculpture collection; nothing more than pieces of shattered glass now.  
  
Rumble and Frenzy pouted at the scolding, looking away from the older mech. “....sorry,” they grumbled under their intakes. “....just wanted to play.....”  
  
Tracks sighed, lifting a servo and rubbing at his optics behind his glasses. “ _Fine._..... go play some more then -outside please!,” he added. He didn't need the two younglings making a mess of anything else this evening. It was already bad enough that they had almost completely destroyed the contents of this room.  
  
The twins, fazed that they weren't being outright punished for all the destruction they had caused,  began heading for the doorway. Frenzy paused though, looking back at the pomeranian. “You..... you're not gonna tell dad that we were prank-calling his associates, are ya mommy?,” the little kittycon asked.  
  
Tracks fixed his son with a firm look, pointing to the door. Frowning, Frenzy adhered to his creator's silent command. When they were both gone, the autodog turned back to his beloved sculptures, sighing over their shards. Ears flat against his helm, the mech began to clean up the mess, shooing off the maid when she came to help.  


**xxXxXxx**

****

When Soundwave returned home, it was to find his two sons squabbling away on the front lawn and his bondmate in a funk. Greatly perplexed and concerned, more so about Tracks' behaviour rather than the twins -Rumble and Frenzy fought quite often- the persian gathered his sons in another room, looking at them sternly.  
  
“Inquiry: What did you do?”  
  
The younglings scuffed their pedes on the floor irritably, mumbling incoherent things under their intakes. Soundwave attempted to push them for more information, but then Tracks was calling the three of them for dinner and the twins dashed off at the first available chance. Thinking perhaps the matter would resolve itself, the kittycon decided to put the issue out of his processor for dinner. But the rest of the evening was darkened by the nameless cloud hanging over his family, and Soundwave was further disturbed when Tracks retired to bed -fully clothed, and as far away from the other mech as was possible on the king-sized mattress.  
  
Greatly displeased now, Soundwave had no choice but to lie down in bed, glaring up at the canopy above him. If Tracks even refused to talk to him, then there was nothing he could do. But, oh how the situation frustrated the kittycon! He had been looking forward to a warm greeting from his bondmate and sons; even perhaps a little romp with Tracks before they recharged for the night. By Unicron, he would have even settled for some of their usual cuddling at this point!  
  
Still, Tracks refused to budge from his small corner of the berth, and Soundwave resigned himself to a cold night.  


**xxXxXxx**

****

Tracks checked his reflection in his pocket mirror for the umpteenth time that orn, making certain that he still looked as stunning as when he had left the mansion that morning. His clothes were immaculate and frame-fitting; glasses cleaned to perfection and lips coated in a glossy wax. Even his fur had been fluffed and primped this morning. All in all, the pomeranian was hot. As he needed to be.....  
  
Governor Straxus was an oily slagger of a kittycon; cruel and mangy, just as he was equally short-tempered. As all mechs of his type did, they hungered for other more beautiful, appealing 'bots, and Tracks was certain that his very appearance would be enough to hook the furball. Still..... it had been a long time since the autodog had fallen back on his escort training, and the thought of using it on Straxus made every bit of his circuitry crawl with disgust. In the past, he would never have even thought to consider the kittycon as a potential client, despite his money, and now he was striding into the mech's very office; looking for all the world that he should be tied up in somebot's room and violated most pleasantly.  
  
Seeing the governor's optics brighten with his entrance, Tracks was surprised to feel just a smidge of vanity bloom inside of him. How long had it been since he last reveled in the lustful gaze he could draw from a 'bot? Trying to remain serious -despite his current actions contradicting that- the pomeranian came to a stop just before the kittycon's desk; perching himself on the edge of the wood and smirking down on the other mech.  
  
“Good day, Governor Straxus,” he greeted smoothly.  
  
Straxus actually flustered for an astrosecond, before he leered back up at the autodog, his lip components stretched back in a nasty grin; displaying his cracked and crooked denta. “Good morning, my dear,” the ragged kittycon purred gravelly. “And to what do I owe this..... _lovely_..... surprise?”  
  
Tracks pursed his lip components innocently, leaning forward a little. The action brought attention to the part in his button-down shirt, where Straxus' optics immediately alighted, gobbling down the teasing preview of the handsome chassis beneath. “Oh, nothing much.....,” the autodog replied breathlessly. “Just this little bit of bad news circulating the grape vine. 'Bots whispering that you are thinking of backing out of a contract with CaseDeck Communications. Even though you already signed the papers.....”  
  
“Yes, well....,” the kittycon mumbled dazedly. His optics had yet to remove from their lecherous studying of Tracks' frame, and already servos were inching across the desk top to touch the gorgeous autodog. “I am not concerned.....”  
  
“Oh?,” Tracks inquired. He leaned forwards an inch more.  
  
Governor Straxus swallowed audibly, finally lifting his optics to Tracks' face again. “I have nothing to fear from that pitiful, lego-kingdom that young 'bot has,” he grinned at the autodog. “My city doesn't need that up-start's communication network. I only signed those stupid papers so I could get access to his accounts. I'll leech my take before I sue that slagger for all his worth.”  
  
Tracks hummed at the words, lifting a servo and languidly trailing it down the side of the kittycon's helm. He tried not to grimace at the matted, patchy fur that brushed against his fingers. “Now why would you do that?,” he asked, still playing up the innocent factor.  
  
Straxus chuckled darkly. “Because that mech had the audacity to call my company repeatedly with wasteful, insulting messages. Besides.... I could put that money to better use than he ever could. Speaking of which...,” the mech trailed off, the perverted fervour in his optics growing brighter, “Why don't I simply show you what money and power can do?”  
  
The kittycon dipped forwards, servo wrapping about the nearest wrist, intent on capturing those luscious lip components. Tracks immediately leaned back, placing his finger on the governor's lips. “Oh, no, no, no,” he tsked, as Straxus shuttered his optics stupidly, looking at the autodog in puzzlement. Coyly, Tracks winked at the older 'bot, sliding off the desk and shaking off the other's grasp in one fluid movement. “I don't think so, Governor Straxus.”  
  
“Now, just what is the meaning of th-”  
  
“This,” Tracks quickly cut in, withdrawing a recording device out of his back pocket, “Is Blackmail, my dear mech. I come as a warning: don't you dare even think about backing out of this contract with CaseDeck Communications. And if there are _any_ discrepancies in the financial archives, I will personally see to it that you are charged with Fraud, Embezzlement and the intent to ruin another 'bot's company.”  
  
Governor Straxus quickly rose in his seat, growling at the autodog. “You can't do anything, pup,” he hissed, optics glowing a fierce red. “I was provoked! The court will see my plea!”  
  
Tracks chuckled a little, making the kittycon freeze with shock. “Oh, Governor,” the pomeranian cooed, “Do you really expect the jury to believe you were provoked? Better yet, can you even _prove_ that CaseDeck Communications was the one making these prank calls?”  
  
“T-the numbers-”  
  
“Are from a public phone, in a rural area, near a mall,” Tracks cut in again. He looked at his fingers in boredom, completely ignoring the furious mech standing behind the desk. “Your company's phone number is listed in the public records. Any mech could have gotten your number and called. I think there's a few displeased 'bots living in Kaon that wouldn't mind verbally harassing you, don't you?”  
  
Governor Straxus was silent for a klik, before he was growling again; deeper and more menacing than last time. “Get out of my office,” he ordered. “Get out now!”  
  
“Oh, sure thing, sweetspark,” Tracks frowned back. “But please remember my words. You entered into a contract with _my_ bondmate.... should you attempt to back out of it in any means illegal or obscene, you will be the one to pay; not the other way around. My Love does not tolerate liars or thieves.”  
  
Smiling again, the autodog blew a kiss to the shell-shocked kittycon, before turning on his pede and sashaying out the door.  


**xxXxXxx**

****

The first thing Tracks did when he got home was shower. The contact he had with Governor Straxus was short, but it left him feeling incredibly filthy and he just had to wash all that dirt off of himself immediately. When he got out of the washracks, Rumble and Frenzy were waiting for him.  
  
“Mommy, where'd ya go?,” the blue one asked first.  
  
“Yeah, you were dressed up all fancy, like when dad takes you out to those expensive places,” the red one piped up.  
  
Tracks felt nervousness overcome him, and impatiently shooed his boys away. “Go on, don't you have some homework or something to do?,” he questioned, hoping that they'd let this topic drop. The twins refused to relent though.  
  
“.....And what about Kaon?,” Frenzy shot back.  
  
The pomeranian sighed, finally looking at his sons. “It's alright. I took care of the matter. Now, please....,” he begged tiredly, “Go play or something.”  
  
The kittycons looked at each other, then at their creator, before glancing back at each other again. “Okay,” they replied, turning and walking for the door. This time it was Rumble who paused, looking over his shoulder plating as he said, “Mommy..... you still upset about us breaking all your crystals?”  
  
Tracks did not answer.  
  
Quietly, Rumble left after his brother.  


**xxXxXxx**

****

Soundwave was surprised when his sons came to him in his study, their faces clearly displaying their guilt. “Rumble, Frenzy: what has happened?”  
  
The two younglings padded over to their sire, refraining from the instinctual urge to crawl up into his lap. “Promise not to get too mad, okay dad?,” Rumble began.  
  
“But.... we're the ones that made mommy upset,” Frenzy went on. “We broke the glass figures in his office.”  
  
“We didn't mean to!,” the blue twin tacked on, seeing the disappointed gleam come to the persian's visor. “We were just playing -like we were doing earlier when we were calling that jerk-bot Straxus. But he got mad at us too and kept saying how he was backing out of the contract....”  
  
“Mom found out, and was angry as well. Not as much as when we broke all his things..... but he was still very angry!,” the red youngling continued. “But mommy said he'd take care of it all, so he got dressed up real nice, like he always does when you guys go for your 'dates'...... and he's still not happy. Dad, we don't want mommy to be sad anymore. Can you cheer him up?”  
  
Soundwave attempted to process everything that had been confessed to him, but the only thing he could really focus on was what Frenzy mentioned last. “Pardon: repeat last sentence,” the kittycon demanded. The twins looked back in confusion.  
  
“Repeat what? That mommy got all fancied up this morning?,” they asked. “Don't see how that's really important...... though he did say that everything with that Straxus mech was alright now. So, that's good, right?”  
  
Soundwave wasn't quite certain who he should be more angry with. His sons, or his bondmate. “Rumble, Frenzy: return to your rooms.”  
  
They whined at the command, but it was quickly silenced when the persian looked at them sternly. “We're really sorry, dad.....,” Rumble mumbled.  
  
“We didn't mean to cause so much trouble.....,” Frenzy murmured softly. Not waiting for the kittycon to scold them further, the younglings hurried out of the study and to their rooms. Normally, Soundwave might have been more considerate and concerned about his sons' dismal moods, but he was much more worried about the little bit of news that Frenzy had shared with him.  
  
Tracks had gone out, all dressed up, and to meet Governor Straxus?!  
  
The information didn't sit well with the persian, who was suddenly finding it difficult to beat back his rapidly rising anger. Soundwave slunk away from his office, heading for his berthroom. Tracks was still there, dressed in his silk robe and brushing the tangles out of his tail. “Yes?,” he asked, glancing up at the kittycon venting in the doorway. In a few, short strides, the blue mech had crossed the room and towered threateningly over his bondmate.  
  
“Inquiry: where have you been?,” Soundwave questioned, his vocalizer a touch deeper and colder than it usually was.  
  
Tracks seemed to notice this right away, for he shifted nervously on the berth, attempting to look anywhere else rather than at the kittycon. “Nowhere important,” he replied. “Now if you don't mind-ack!”  
  
The pomeranian bit his lip component as the kittycon grabbed his wrist suddenly, forcing the autodog to look up at him. “L-let me go. You're hurting me!” Soundwave ignored the slim mech's plea, visor turning to the clothes tossed in a neat little pile at the end of the berth. He recognized the deep violet slacks and wine-red dress shirt as some of Tracks' most favourite articles of clothing, and ones that he wore when he was feeling especially flirty. They were wrinkled from use.  
  
“Explanation: now!,” The persian growled, pulling Tracks to his pedes. “True or false: you've gone to see Governor Straxus. _Dolled up_.”  
  
Tracks flushed, dropping his optics guiltily. His silent confirmation to what the twins had told him, enraged Soundwave further. He reached for the pomeranian's other wrist, but the mech quickly fought him off, pulling himself away from the kittycon's grasp. “Have you been sleeping with him?,” Soundwave demanded.  
  
The autodog sputtered at the accusation, cheekplates burning with shame. “Is that what you think of me?!,” Tracks shouted. “That I'm some sort of floozy! Th-that, that I would sleep around, when I have a bondmate and a family! A-after everything I-i ever said.... I c-could have deleted Rumble and Frenzy after they were sparked. I could h-have run away from you, r-rejected you when you asked to take me as your bondmate..... Do s-still see me as nothing but a simple escort; a lowly whore?!”  
  
Soundwave tried to step forward, but the multi-coloured mech retreated from him further, growling under his intakes. “If that's how you see it, so be it!,” Tracks continued, static slowly slipping into his vocalizer. He marched over to his discarded clothes, pulling out a recording device from his pants pocket. “Here! Governor Straxus incriminating himself, should that rat attempt to break contract or steal from the company.”  
  
The autodog stormed toward the persian, slamming the device in his bondmate's servo. Glaring up at the kittycon tearfully, Tracks said, “If we're done now.....” And he left, heading for the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. There was the click of the lock falling in place, and Soundwave knew he wouldn't be able to talk to Tracks anytime soon.  
  
Quietly, the persian left the berthroom; visor fixed on the recording device in his servo.  


**xxXxXxx**

****

It was quiet in his private room. Tracks sat in one of the plush chairs, wiping a cleaning clothe between the bends and folds of one of the few crystal sculptures remaining. It was late, but he could not sleep, and would rather be here than elsewhere. There was the creaking of the door, and the pomeranian glanced up from his work. Seeing it was only Soundwave at the door, he quickly turned away again; ignoring the kittycon.  
  
Soundwave did not comment on the action. He was well aware that he deserved it. Instead, he gripped the box behind his back struts more firmly, walking into the quiet room.  
  
“....What do you want?,” Tracks demanded, once the persian had come to a stop at his side.  
  
“Intention: Apologize for the events of the other night,” Soundwave answered, kneeling before the autodog. Tracks tried not to look at the kittycon, but his gaze lifted somewhat when the blue mech revealed the present he had with him.  
  
The pomeranian attempted to ignore Soundwave a little longer, but the kittycon made it difficult by inching closer, holding his gift out further. Sighing softly, Tracks set aside his crystal sculpture, finally reaching for the box. “What is this?,” he asked, tugging gently at the gold bows. He opened up the box, gasping at the gift within. It was another crystal sculpture, glass strands extending upwards from a squarish base and twining around each before converging up at the very top. But that wasn't what had the autodog in awe. It was the pale blue glow that seemed to emit from within the very crystal, highlighting the rainbow sheen that flickered in and out of view.  
  
“Rumble and Frenzy: sorry for what they've done. They wanted to give you a new sculpture to replace the broken ones.”  
  
“So..... this is them buying me the present then?,” Tracks asked skeptically.  
  
“Negative,” Soundwave replied. “They selected the item. I made the purchase.”  
  
A soft chuckle escaped the pomeranian. “I see.......” The persian did not respond, but he looked on curiously, apparently expecting more from the autodog. “You don't know why I collect these, do you?,” Tracks questioned quietly, lightly stroking the sculpture's curves.  
  
“Answer: would be satisfactory,” Soundwave nodded.  
  
Tracks looked into the kittycon's visor quickly, before glancing away momentarily. “I started collecting them after I met you,” he explained, smiling gently. His cheekplates were beginning to colour with a blush. “A different sculpture for every memorable moment we had together. When Rumble and Frenzy broke them..... I was ridiculously upset. But I had poured so much of myself into them, that them breaking was like my spark breaking in turn.”  
  
“And Governor Straxus......?,” Soundwave carefully pushed.  
  
The pomeranian sniffed in disdain. “I would not let that slagger dare use _my sparklings_ as his excuse to slander you or your company. So, I decided to pay the miserable, old coot a little visit to pass along a message.”  
  
Hearing Tracks say this made the persian's very spark swell with pride. He reached forward quickly, drawing the autodog into his arms. Tracks allowed the motion, shifting so that he could deposit the new crystal sculpture onto the side table before wrapping his arms about the kittycon's shoulders. “So I'm guessing you're no longer mad at me,” he remarked, smirking slightly at his bondmate.  
  
Soundwave nuzzled Tracks' neck cables, pleased to hear a breathless moan escape the pomeranian. “Affirmative. Additional information necessary: am I forgiven?”  
  
“Of course!,” Tracks answered. He returned the affection being showered on him, kissing the persian's mouth guard repeatedly. “I-i..... I love you too much to stay mad at you for long. It's part of the reason I became your bondmate after all....”  
  
Soundwave purred loudly. “Other reason?,” the blue mech asked.  
  
The pomeranian chuckled again, tail wagging behind him and blue optics shimmering playfully. “The other reason is because of how good you frag me,” he smirked.  
  
The kittycon rose to his pedes immediately, pulling Tracks with him. The autodog gasped at the motion, but did not stop the other mech when he began to grope his frame. “Berthroom,” Soundwave rumbled lustfully, “Now.”  
  
“Of course, love,” Tracks replied, licking his lip components quickly.


	12. Onslaught and Skydive II

**C.M.D: As always the censored version is on Fanfiction.net, at any point that you wish to read that instead.  
  
Chapter 12: Onslaught and Skydive II  
Rating: M  
Summary: Wet dreams  
  
** He couldn't stop the dreams....  
  
“P-please, sir, I-i beg-”  
  
“General,” growled a lustful vocalizer in his ear. “It's 'General', to you soldier. Or have you forgotten so quickly?”  
  
A swift smack to his aft had the autodog yipping in surprise, before he groaned meekly, wriggling for more attention. The servo though rejoined its' brother, mapping along the curve and bumps of his frame; pulling wide open his thighs and tracing the contours of his pelvic plating, but never dipping into the valve so unashamedly displayed. “P-please, Gen-general,” Skydive almost whimpered as he tried to push into the larger chassis hovering patiently behind him, “I-i beg of y-you: pl-please do not t-tease me an-any further!”  
  
“Talking back to your superior?,” the other replied. The shih tzu could hear the smirk in his assailant's tone; knew that he was being laughed at and hence forth humiliated in a sense. “That's worthy of a demerit, soldier.” Another slap across his raised aft. Skydive gasped in both pain and pleasure, attempting to turn around and face his captor. But the mech quickly pushed him down into the bedsheets with one large servo, before two thick fingers were plunging into his valve.  
  
“And now attempting to assault your senior officer? My, my, my....,” scolded the stranger over the autodog's moans. “You need to be straightened out, soldier, and I think the best way is through a quick and rough lesson, don't you agree?”  
  
“Y-yes!,” Skydive yipped as the fingers twisted suddenly in his valve, striking across several sensor nodes at once and making lightning shoot up his spinal struts. Gasping, the shih tzu pressed his forehead into the sheets, gripping them tightly in his fists as he struggled to vent. “Pl-please, General,” he begged wantonly, slowly rocking back into the digits. He could hear his lubricants squelch as he drove the fingers in deeper, silken walls rippling around the pleasant intrusion. Both only furthered to fan the young mech's desires. “P-please! I w-wish to learn!”  
  
A purr resounded from behind him, the vibrations carrying from the other's chestplates and down his backstruts as his assailant pressed himself tightly to the shih tzu's chassis. “And learn you shall,” husked the tempting vocalizer; a hot glossa sneaking out and licking up Skydive's neck cables. “Under my great tutelage, you will come to know many things soldier.”  
  
It was barely an astrosecond between the words before the two fingers were being ripped from his valve, only for a much thicker spike to come slamming inside in their place. With a scream of long-awaited ecstasy, Skydive arched back into the stranger, coolant pricking at the corner of his optics as he cried out the other mech's name with beloved reverence.  
  
“O-onslaught!!”  


**xxXxXxx**

****

Intakes hitching, Skydive shot up in his berth, clutching the sheets to his chestplates desperately. For a moment, the blue mech was confused about his surroundings, before common sense regained control and he remembered that he was alone, in his berth, at home.  
  
It had just been a dream.....  
  
A mighty horrible one at that. Sighing softly, the autodog attempted to lay back down but found himself sitting back up in a hurry. Blushing, he lifted his blankets, only to find that he'd made a mess; lubricants slicked his thighs, soaking into a small puddle in between his legs. He thought he might just be sick from his shame alone!  
  
Getting up quickly, Skydive first gathered up his soiled bedding, throwing it into the laundry hamper before dashing across the darkened hallway and to the washroom. Shutting the door quietly behind him, the shih tzu turned on the faucet, grabbing a wash clothe and wiping at his sticky legs in silent embarrassment. He could not believe that he'd lubricated himself in his sleep.... let alone had an inappropriate dream about a mech he had only met a few times before.  
  
Sighing again, Skydive quickly tidied up and dried himself off, returning to his room and staring distantly at his berth.  
  
There was no way he was going to go back to sleep now, if he was only going to be bothered by those terrible visions again.  
  
Grabbing a book from his dresser, the shih tzu turned and left his room; heading straight for the living room and a few hours alone with 'The Art of War'.


	13. Dinobots

**Chapter 13: Dinobots  
Rating: T  
Warning: Heat cycles, implied shotacon, incest, kidnapping  
  
** It was a beautiful orn; the sun was shining, the sky was the most perfect blue and the weather was nice and mild. A perfect day, thought a young autodog, to finally be doing his job all by himself. Straightening his shirt collar, the youngling turned on his cash register, eagerly awaiting the customers he'd soon be cashing out. It was the confidence and thrill of a new responsibility that had the mech practically bouncing on his pedes with anticipation.  
  
A shadow fell across the conveyor belt and the pup fought to keep down his squeal of excitement. Quickly, he turned his helm to his first customer, lip components stretched in a wide grin. “Good day, sir! How ar- ah, ah, ah.....” The youngling's optics flared in horror, a small whimper escaping him, as he looked up at the giant mech towering over him.  
  
A blue visor dimmed testily; sharp denta tightening into a scowl and scruffy ears flicking in annoyance. Behind the giant flanked two more 'bots: another dangerous, rough looking mech who was shorter and wider, but had an expression of mild indifference, mild ire fixed on his face; and a thin, more innocent-appearing sparkling who only came to about the cashier's hip.  
  
A low growl tore the autodog away from his inquisitive stupor, turning his attention back to the threat in front of him. Paling further, the youngling could only whimper in distress, to afraid to do anything -even flee for safety!  
  
“S-sorry, sir, let me help you sir,” stuttered the manager, quickly elbowing the cashier out of his booth and taking over his till. “Y-you must excuse t-the pup.... I-it's his first time o-on the job,” the older mech added, scanning through the stranger's items. Chuckling anxiously, the manager fell silent for a klik; bagging the groceries before telling the giant his total.  
  
Silently, the stranger pulled out a handful of credits, dumping them into the autodog's expectant servos. Fumbling with the cash a little, the manager quickly punching the sum into the register and giving the other his change. Pocketing it, the dangerous 'bot then grabbed the bag of alcohol, whipping a shopping list out of his other pocket. The squat one grabbed the rest of the bags, the little mech grabbing his tail and trailing after the two bigger strangers.  
  
Trembling still, the youngling refrained from even breathing until the trio had exited out of the small grocery store. “W-who we-were those s-scary 'bots?!,” he squeaked then, servos clenched at his face, fearful they'd come back.  
  
His manager sighed, shutting off the pup's register and turning to the younger autodog. “Next time, make sure you cash them through quickly,” he told sternly. “Those would be the Wolf brothers from down the way. They're not real autodogs -they're wild, uncivilized beasts but they can best you before you even knew what happened. The only way to keep them from breaking your neck is to to get them out of here as quick as possible. And remember: never -NEVER- look them in the optic. That's a sure way to get pulverized.”  
  
The youngling gulped.  
  
“Now,” the manager continued wearily, “Get back to work.” He turned, leaving the other mech whimpering at his cash, remembering with dreaded clarity his close encounter with death just a few kliks ago.  


XXXXXXXXX  


Down the way, just past the local supermarket and city hall, deep in the woods, was a cottage. Rugged and starting to show signs of age, this usually cheerful accommodations was home to three wolves. Grimlock, the oldest, ruled as Alpha Male, in charge of buying the groceries and making sure they had a warm place to sleep at night. Snarl, still just a youngling but nearing mechhood, was responsible for maintaining their home, keeping it in some semblance of tidy and clean. And then there was Swoop, who was by far the youngest at only several stellar cycles, whose only duty was cooking and occasionally washing the laundry. Both of his brothers thought him too young for anything else just yet and were content to let the sparkling have his time for play.  
  
Coming home from a long orn working at the docks, Grimlock threw his dufflebag to the floor as he stomped carelessly into his home. “Snarl, Swoop -me Grimlock home,” he huffed. A joyful chirp met his ears before he saw his little brother tear out of their shared room, a smile on his face and a glow in his optics.  
  
“Brother!,” Swoop cried happily as he threw himself at the bigger wolf. Grimlock caught him smoothly, lifting the tiny sparkling up and bumping foreheads with the smaller 'bot. “Me Swoop missed you lots. You having good day, big brother Grimlock?”  
  
“Grimlock have good day, but me glad to be home,” the mech answered. He saw Snarl come out of the berthroom as well, servos folded in his sweater's pouch. “What you brother Swoop and Snarl do all day?”  
  
“Usual,” the youngling replied flatly. “Dinner made already; we just waiting for you Grimlock. Now we can eat.”  
  
“Me Grimlock glad.”  
  
“Me Swoop read book!,” Swoop piped up, grasping at one of his brother's ears to get his attention. The older wolf turned his helm back to the sparkling, being met with an expression of immense pride and joy. “Swoop do all by myself. Snarl no help!”  
  
Grimlock was silent for a moment, before raising a servo and roughly patting Swoop on his helm. The young cub purred happily at the action, missing the scowl his eldest sibling threw to Snarl. Snarl frowned back, shrugging, before crossing the room to the kitchen area and grabbing their dinner from the stove. “We eat now, Grimlock say,” the biggest wolf proclaimed. He set Swoop down. “Swoop go wash, then Grimlock do the same.”  
  
Nodding his helm quickly in understanding, Swoop skipped from the room and to the washroom.  
  
Once the door had been shut, Grimlock turned to Snarl. “What you Snarl allowing him Swoop to read for?,” the wolf growled. “Books are no good; books not put food on table. Him Swoop should be learning real things, like how to find best wood and carry home, or how to set trap and bait for beasts. School is for weak, rich autodogs, not real mechs.”  
  
The youngling frowned back, setting their pot roast on the little wooden table they would eat at. “Book not bad, Swoop just having fun. He Swoop likes them, not school. He still learning to be strong wolf,” Snarl answered. “You Grimlock should let him Swoop be.”  
  
The older mech opened his mouth to say more, but Swoop was skipping back into the room, and Grimlock was quick to silence his oncoming words. He watched the sparkling clamber up onto a chair, scratching his brother behind his ear as he got up out of his own seat. “You Swoop is good boy. You Swoop grow up to be big and strong,” Grimlock said, “But first Swoop must eat. Me Grimlock join you after me wash.”  
  
That said, the large wolf wandered off to the washroom, leaving Swoop purring and kicking his pedes at the table while Snarl dished up their supper.  


XXXXXXXXX  


“Me Swoop ask please big brother. Please....”  
  
Grimlock gripped the sheets tightly, pressing further back against the pillows as his youngest brother Swoop clambered up into his lap; sharp, little claws digging into his shoulder plating as the sparkling pulled himself higher up the other 'bot's frame. Normally, the bigger wolf was used to Swoop climbing all over his chassis, but this time it was different..... There was lust burning in those hooded optics and pale cheekplates were flushed with rich energon. Against his pelvic plating, the smaller wolf was hot like fire; his intakes short and quick as he kneaded Grimlock's plating.  
  
“P-please, brother,” Swoop whined softly, grinding slowly against the larger wolf. Blue optics looked up at him pleadingly. “Swoop want; Swoop need. Please..... you Grimlock t-take me S-swoop for m-mate?”  
  
The eldest mech growled, olfactory sensors twitching as the scent of the other's heat reached them. It was Swoop's first cycle, and the sparkling's lubricants were rich and thick, intoxicating to the Alpha wolf. It took all of his strength to keep himself in check when Grimlock felt those molten fluids drip onto his stomach plating as the cub scrambled higher up his frame.  
  
“You Swoop must-”  
  
“Swoop beg of you Grimlock!,” the sparkling keened, pressing trembling kisses to his brother's fanged mouth. “Only you brother is wanting. You Grimlock strong, brave, most smartest.... you is greatest mate. Swoop want no other!”  
  
“Pl-please..... please, t-taking of Swoop, is begging you. Me S-swoop wanting to b-be claimed b-by you brother.”  
  
Grimlock grabbed hold of the younger wolf as Swoop leaned in closer, scent growing richer as his arousal peaked. It called to the mech, stirring up his primal desires; ordering him to give into the calling and take what was rightfully his. But rationality was still present and it forced the wolf to push the sparkling away.  
  
“You Swoop out of place,” Grimlock snarled, trying to resist the temptation before him still, “You is young cub; you not understand. Me Grimlock not be mate, me Grimlock brother. Mate come later when you Swoop ready.”  
  
Tumbling backwards a little on the berth from the harsh shove the older 'bot had given him, Swoop quickly sat back up, denta bared at Grimlock. Coolant glazed the narrowed optics, rejection shimmering in the blue glass. “Swoop is ready,” he growled in return, “You no tell Swoop when he ready. I-if you Grimlock no w-want Swoop, th-then..... then Swoop f-find other mate. B-better than brother is!”  
  
The sparkling scratched at the older wolf's servo when Grimlock reached for him, hurrying off the berth and running out of the cottage. Grimlock huffed, getting off the berth and heading for the washroom. He trusted that Swoop would be safe enough out in the woods around their home, but right now he had to get the traces of his brother's lubricants off before he could control his lust no longer.  


XXXXXXXXX  


He was burning up inside, and now his spark was aching as well.  
  
Swoop crashed through the bushes and leaves, running further into the woods, as far away from his brother as was possible. He had not expected to go into heat so young in his life, since he'd only learned about mating and the like a couple stellar cycles ago, but even still, the sparkling knew that if his body was running through the changes it meant that he was ready to take on a mate. And there was only one that he could think worthy enough: his brother Grimlock.  
  
In his processor, he could see it now. The older wolf was powerful and full of courage; he could protect him and his future offspring without any trouble. Grimlock had a good job and brought home plenty of food, plus he was caring and kind. He loved Swoop already. Why then could his brother not see him as a potential mate?  
  
Sniffling, Swoop started to slow down now, well deep in the forest; his heat cycle spiking again incessantly, demanding that he mate. But there was no one around, and the one that the cub loved did not want him. Overwhelmed with sorrow, the sparkling laid down on a soft bed of moss, curling up as his claws scratched around the rim of his valve. He was tempted to plunge them deep into his passage to alleviate the growing pain, but that would not be honourable he knew. His valve was sacred, meant only for the touch of his mate, not for his own selfish clawing.  
  
Prying his servos away from his pelvic plating, the wolf turned and pressed his face into the dirt some more, drowning out his tears. He almost missed the stranger's approach; sitting up and whirling around in surprise. The thin kittycon loomed over him, red optics glowing faintly from behind the translucent green mask he wore over his helm.  
  
“Well.... look at what I've found,” he mumbled to himself, his tone somewhat disinterested. The tabby's tail flickered as Swoop growled at him, claws flexing defensively. Quickly, the stranger lashed out, kicking the wolf to the floor again, dropping onto the sparkling; one servo wrapping around the smaller mech's slender throat. “I'd say autodog.... but you're much more than that, aren't you? And would you look at that....”  
  
The kittycon's gaze dropped down to his exposed valve; slick walls rippling hungrily at the older 'bot's heavy frame straddling him.  
  
“In heat, are we? Hmmm..... This shall work in my favour I think.” The tabby smirked, reaching into his white lab coat and withdrawing a vial. He popped the cap on it, holding the small bottle and its mysterious fluid towards the sparkling's olfactory sensor. “Don't worry, cub,” the cruel voice purred darkly, “It's only a special serum to make you sleep. It won't harm you.....”  
  
Swoop tried to twist his helm away, but the kittycon's grasp around his neck made it hard to do so. He cycled a sharp intake, fangs bared, taking in the unknown scent. It made him cringe, ligaments tensing before darkness started to crowd around the edges of his vision and heaviness settled into all his joints.  
  
“Sleep....,” he could hear the kittycon say again as he slipped into unconsciousness, “.... and when you wake, the tests shall begin....”  


XXXXXXXXX  


When Swoop awoke, it was to find himself trapped in a cramped cage, set on the floor. All around him was dark walls with no light, except from what came from the hundreds of strange vials and beakers set around the room. Some bubbled, some hissed and others produced a foul smoke that made the sparkling gag and growl anxiously in his little prison. They all glowed in a myriad of different colours, like some sort of twisted rainbow; blue flames dancing beneath their glass bottoms.  
  
The wolf did not like the looks of the mysterious brews.  
  
“I see you're awake now,” a voice piped up. Swoop turned as best as he could in his cage, watching as the stranger from before entered into the room, shutting the door behind him and plunging everything back into semi-darkness once more. “Welcome to my lab, little one.”  
  
“Or,” the kittycon drawled, striding forward, “That is what I would say if I had a proper lab and not some hovel in the ground. Unfortunately, the scientific community does not care for my work and thus I've been cut from achieving my rightful standing. But.... you may just be the key to changing that.”  
  
“W-what.... what you do with Swoop?,” the cub growled, grasping the bars of his cage anxiously. He watched as his captor headed for the nearest table, opening a thick book and penning something onto the pages.  
  
“Have you ever heard of 'dormant genetics'?” Swoop frowned in confusion. Catching the look, the tabby smirked, occupying himself next with a large syringe and a small bottle of a clear liquid. “No, no I didn't think you would. A theory I devised back when I still had my license stated that all 'bots started from three individual roots. Now, I never cared much about our ancestors and the like -all boring drivel in my opinion- but cases have been documented in the past couple decades of strange anomalies present in individual CNA.”  
  
The mech flicked the needle's tip, squeezing the bottom a little so a tiny bit of the unknown concoction squirted into the air. Pleased, the kittycon approached the trapped sparkling; a strange glow coming to his optics.  
  
“Perhaps it's the influx of mix-breeding that is being introduced into society these days.... The young ones don't hold themselves to the same restrictions as their parents do,” the older 'bot mused to himself as he reached into the cage for Swoop. The wolf tried to struggle, but the kittycon merely tugged him tight against the bars, injecting the needle's point into the thin plating of his arm. “It would be the only catalyst really as to why strange new coding is being discovered in sparkling CNA. I suppose you wouldn't know anything about that though, would you?”  
  
The sparkling hissed at the quick prick, swooning suddenly as the mysterious liquid coursed through his energon lines; flaming the dying embers of his heat cycle until it was roaring once more. Moaning weakly, Swoop pressed against the cool bars, trying to grasp at the mech's sleeve as the stranger withdrew.  
  
“No, of course not. You're nothing but a wild, little thing -you would know nothing about the scientific community and the uproar about 'wings'.”  
  
“W-wings....?,” Swoop mumbled confusedly. He was losing focus on reality now, overwhelmed by his basic programming and the heat cycle. All he could pay attention to -all he felt that he needed- was this strange mech before him, who smelled odd and unnatural, but who held such a strong presence.  
  
“Yes. _Wings_ ,” smirked his warden. He placed the syringe on the table, grabbing his book again and writing something down. “My theory was that a root strand, almost lost since the time of the first three great ancestors, allowed for something as unnatural as 'wings' to be formed from additional ligaments and cabling along the back of the rotor joints on each side of the spinal struts. Too much pure-breds dulled the strand, losing such mobility and compatibility for such an occurrence to happen again but kittycon-autodog coupling seems to be triggering the binary CNA coding, creating this physical effect once more.”  
  
“But of course, spouting such unfounded rambling was what had my license revoked in the first place....,” the kittycon grumbled to himself. “Well, that, and my chemicals. CNA is a very delicate and somewhat toxic branch of work; to even begin mimicking such ingenuity, one must not be afraid to dabble in slightly.... poisonous trades. A shame my colleagues could not see that.”  
  
Tabby tail flickering in dark amusement, the mech stalked around the tables, picking up and discarding various tools, as if he was unsure of which ones he wanted to use first. “No matter though. I shall make them see the error of their ways soon, and you, you cub will be the means to my resurrection to high society once more,” he purred sickly, grabbing a pair of blue gloves and snapping them on. Swoop panted heavily in his cage, his irrational processor whispering at him to flee even as he weakened further from the return of his heat cycle. “Such primitive and undiluted CNA.... you shall be the perfect subject for my study.”  
  
The stranger stalked back to the little cage, his optics lit with madness as he crouched before the wolf. “I look forward to cutting you up little one and discovering all the secrets you hold inside.”  
  
Lids growing heavy, Swoop shuddered, curling up on the bottom of his prison.  


XXXXXXXXX  


Grimlock looked up from the t.v as Snarl came through the door, a bag slung over his shoulder plating. The youngling stopped, looking around, sniffing the air curiously. “Something smell weird.....,” the younger wolf noted, frowning. He stopped, looking around again. “Where is Swoop?”  
  
The Alpha male scowled in return. “What you Snarl talking about? Swoop outside home, moping.”  
  
“It smell not right though....,” his brother replied.  
  
Grimlock huffed, turning back to the screen. “Brother fine. You go bring Swoop in now; we eat now,” the older wolf ordered. Snarl put his bag to the floor, his ears perked worriedly.  
  
“But.... Snarl not see Swoop outside. No smell him brother either.”  
  
The mech jumped to his pedes at the words, hurrying to the door and onto the porch. He looked around, smelling the air, not seeing nor catching the sparkling's scent. “SWOOP!,” he roared, his voice echoing through the trees. The woods shook, animals scurrying and squealing in fright..... but no voice called back in response.  
  
A slow panic began to overtake Grimlock. He quickly scrambled around the cottage, still seeing no sign of his youngest brother. Circling back around, he came a stop before the porch, servos clenching anxiously at his sides. Snarl stood in the doorway, equally as worried, his optics focused on the elder wolf. “Him Swoop not here,” he whined softly. “Him Swoop in heat. Where he Swoop go then?”  
  
Grimlock snarled in anger, mostly at himself, debating. Finally, he snorted off to the side, turning back to the woods with a growl. If Swoop wasn't nearby, then he must have run off further into the forest. The sparkling should have been back by now.... He knew better than to stay away from the cottage, especially when it was getting dark and dinner was ready. Even wolf cubs were in danger once the sun had set.  
  
“Something not right....,” the larger mech growled. “Me Grimlock go look. You Snarl stay here; make sure in case Swoop come home.”  
  
Snarl nodded his helm quickly as his brother stormed off into the dark trees, not even looking once back. He hoped that Swoop would be safe and unharmed once Grimlock found him, especially if the sparkling was experiencing his first heat cycle. But why had the younger wolf run off in the first place....?  


XXXXXXXXX  


It felt like he'd spent cycles searching. Grimlock roared in fury, slamming at the trees, even as he tore up bushes and almost sprinted through the woods. He still hadn't found Swoop, and with every passing klik, he felt his anxiety grow and grow until fear was clenching around his spark as if it would rip out the burning orb that very moment. Even guilt was now making itself present, leaving the wolf feeling ill.  
  
“Swoop! SWOOP!,” the mech cried out again, coming to a stop in a small clearing. The wind howled, rattling through the trees, sounding like a million, little limbs beating against each other. From downwind, came a scent. Grimlock's visor flared at the familiar smell as he whirled around, racing towards the source.  
  
The wolf cursed himself when he ended up in another clearing, with no Swoop to be found. Dropping to his knees, Grimlock sniffed deeply at the surrounded grass and bush, trying to identify the scents he could not recognize. There was the smell of dew and spring grass -his brother's regular scent- mixed with the heady aroma of heavily pollinated wild flowers and ripe bolt-berries, signs of the sparkling's heat cycle. But the other scent.... it was too sharp and sterile and just....not _right_.  
  
The “clean” scent threatened to overwhelm his baby brother's sweet smell, strangling it.  
  
But it didn't take away from the lingering traces of lust, fear and confusion covering the trampled grass along the ground.  
  
Someone had actually been here; someone had actually taken the sparkling away from his family.... someone not worthy. Someone..... _feline_....  
  
Grimlock grabbed at the trees, tearing them down, ripping up the grass, before turning and howling his rage to the night sky above.


	14. Onslaught and Skydive III

**C.M.D: The last half of this chapter contains sex, but a censored version can be found on Fanfiction.net, so fear not!  
  
Title: History  
Rating: T  
Summary: They discuss past events  
  
** “Listen, those are all well and good, but the best way to overcome an enemy is through surprise,” Onslaught scowled, tapping aggressively at the textbook page. “Find some good bait, set up a sound trap and you've got the makings of a perfect ambush.”  
  
Blue optics flashed in opposition. “Ambushes are anything but perfect,” Skydive retaliated. “Have you forgotten the events of Floron II? Intelligence officers planted persuasive dead ends and brought rebel forces right where they wanted them, only for the thing to almost blow up in their faces!”  
  
“But they still managed to heavily damage the rebels, crippling their power and thus making them easier to pick off later.”  
  
“Only at the loss of the Allies' own general, and severe injuries to several other important figureheads to the war,” the autodog pointed out. Onslaught's frown deepened and he flipped the pages of the book along, opening it up to another chapter.  
  
“In battle, all losses are to be expected and even considered beneficial,” the serval said to his companion. “There's nothing wrong with using guerrilla tactics or 'under-handed' tricks, as you call them. It's war -anything you can and are able to do to gain the upper hand is how you play the game. For example, during the Dark Ages when soldiers were unable to encroach further upon enemy territory because of hills and slants, they would use false signals or beacons to trick the enemy into thinking they were out of resources or in distress, luring them closer until they were within range of a decent attack.”  
  
Skydive pushed his servos off of the book, flipping back through it again and pointing to a page that was well-thumbed. “Strategy tactics like that are acceptable, but do you not recall the Simanzi Massacre?,” the shih tzu started, his tone fierce. “What started out as well plotted individual uprisings around ancient Iacon, soon turned into madness when the rebels' leader went underground to avoid assassination attempts from the Empire. Instead of leading singular, smart attacks at various locations in and around Iacon, to weaken the city and thus its rulers, orders carried by oath-bound messengers were misplaced, mixed up or simply miscommunicated to the scattered forces. The rebels lost complete control of themselves! They attacked and preyed on whomever they chose, without direction or fore-thought.”  
  
Onslaught opened his mouth to interject, but the other mech turned the page again, his finger pressing against the paper hard as he turned his passion-lit optics to the kittycon. “They amassed and attacked the villagers of Simanzi -Iacon's ghetto, sanctioned from the rest of the city- slaughtering millions! Most of whom were women and children! That wasn't strategy or war, that was murder made by mad, battle-lust crazy barbarians. Iacon lost hundreds of its own forces stomping out the rebels and even then, no good was brought about by the end of it. Iacon was still held in the power of a Monarchy and was left vulnerable to outside invaders for decades.”  
  
The kittycon was stunned. He looked to the book, catching Skydive's pleased smirk, before he focused entirely on the section that the younger mech had gestured too earlier. Slaggit, he thought, the autodog was right. “A valid point,” Onslaught conceded, loving the way that Skydive's optics flashed in intellectual triumph and the proud air the shih tzu exuded. “But,” he quickly added, “The movement of several, different forces can still be effective even if the figure of power is missing from battle, granted that they are working through a structure of hierarchy and not simply electing temporary leaders to run each individual group. The account of the documented 'Surge', for example, is....”  
  
The two mechs leaned in closer together, faces breaking out into equal smiles as the discussion continued; both their sparks and their processors enjoying what the other had to offer.  
  
 **Title: Swoon  
Rating: T  
Summary: It's lunchtime again for Skydive  
  
** His professor's buzzer went off, informing the entire class that the lecture was done for the orn. Immediately, shuffling broke out as students grabbed their notebooks and bags, heading quickly to either of the two exits of the lecture hall. Taking his time, Skydive returned his things back to their appropriate places, spark already whirling in excitement. It was lunch time now for him and as had been happening frequently the past few orns, he expected Onslaught to be waiting for him out on the lawn.  
  
The shih tzu got to his pedes, unable to suppress the foolish grin that broke out on his face as he shouldered his bag. Maybe they'd continue their discussion from last time about the benefits of intelligence officers in battle, or perhaps they'd even deconstruct and analyze the methods the Protectons used when they ruled, which had led to their downfall hundreds of vorns ago.  
  
Skydive walked out the door of the lecture hall, hugging his history textbook to his chestplates. He absolutely loved the talks he had with the kittycon. Onslaught was well-informed, the autodog noted. Not to mention that he also was very opinionated, but he kept his processor open for new ideas and always had a strong counter-argument prepared if he came across something that he didn't necessarily agree with. He never cut a person off until they'd said their piece, he was gracious to allow someone to defend themselves or give them the time to do so and he believed that no one was too old to learn.  
  
 _“The world shifts and changes too much for someone like myself to just sit back and say, 'That's it. I've learned everything there is. I am now wise. Let others find their answers in me',_ ” the kittycon had once said to him. _“The truth is, even the 'answers' change with time. Those so-called 'scholars' can keep their fancy degrees and titles; I'll keep learning what the world has to offer until there's not a breath left in my body anymore. That's what makes one wise.”  
  
_ Skydive had instantly archived those words deep into his memory banks. There was an honesty and a determination in them that was uniquely all Onslaught himself, and when those dusky, blue optics lit with fervor and grey lip components turned upwards with a confident smirk.....  
  
The shih tzu almost walked straight into a hallway pillar when he realized he was.... was..... _swooning_ over his older friend. Stricken with horror, Skydive tried to shake the thoughts from his helm, but found himself unable. This.... this was wrong, he was sure! Onslaught was a good and respected friend; he should not be thinking such indulgent things about him.  
  
But, a little voice persisted, what if.....?  
  
Skydive stomped on that idea before it could fester. “No.... no, he's a good friend,” he muttered to himself, giving his helm another shake, “Just a good friend.” Onlining his optics again, the autodog was disappointed to find that he'd wasted several kliks of his lunch already. Continuing on his way, Skydive felt his spark pick up its sporadic whirling again -this time in trepidation of what might await him once he got outdoors.  
  
 **Title: The biggest fool  
Rating: T  
Summary: He muses as he waits to see Skydive again  
  
** He was the biggest fool on the planet.  
  
That's what Onslaught felt, sitting down in some noisy cafe, putting up with the loud-mouthed younglings behind him and the piss-thin bitter oil he was nursing in his servos, and all because this place was close to Skydive's classes. Glancing quickly at his watch, the kittycon resumed his staring out the window, keeping his optics peeled for any sight of the shih tzu across the street.  
  
A fool and a stalker.  
  
Scowling, Onslaught forced himself to look away from the gaggle of Academy students, rubbing at his optics and doing his best not to sigh out loud. What was he doing here? Spending the majority of his orn sitting in a cafe, throwing away credits on their disgusting oil and counting down the kliks until he could cross the street and intercept Skydive during his lunch..... Everything he was doing was just flat out creepy, even by his standards, and Onslaught didn't do creepy. That was more his stupid son's thing.  
  
Yet, the serval wasn't about to get up and leave either.  
  
No, because he was too afraid that he might miss Skydive when it came time for the autodog's lunch, and the thought of not seeing the younger mech -even for an orn- didn't sit well with the kittycon. He didn't like the idea of Skydive having some “fateful” encounter with another during his free time.....  
  
This time, Onslaught really did sigh. He was too old for this, evidently, not to mention that he'd also been out of the dating scene for decades. The great strategist couldn't think of how to approach this situation, let alone how to begin to court Skydive. Was the pup even interested? Would he be put off by Onslaught's age alone, never mind his size or his race?  
  
The kittycon forced himself to drink some more of the nasty oil, reveling in its sharp burn on his glossa as he shook those silly thoughts from his helm. Alright, so he knew he was old, he knew he was fairly large and obviously he was aware of the fact that he was a kittycon. The fact that he was sitting here and stressing over those unchangeable attributes like some pathetic youngling was.... well, pathetic. Besides, Skydive didn't seem to mind any of those things at all when they went out together, on what Onslaught liked to think of as preliminary dates.  
  
If discussing war strategies and stealing glances at the beautiful shih tzu could be considered “dates”.  
  
The kittycon buried his face in his servo. Primus, he was a fool.  
  
 **Title: Crush  
Rating: T  
Summary: Brawl is confused by what's going on with Onslaught  
  
** “Daddy's been acting strange....”  
  
Blast Off and Vortex both stopped what they were doing, turning and facing their brother. Brawl scratched at his servo, looking up at the ceiling momentarily, before looking back at his brothers with that same meek, little simpering expression on his face. “I don't know why. Is he sick?”  
  
“Not likely,” the siamese answered blandly, attempting to soothe his younger sibling. “Perhaps-”  
  
“Pfft! Daddy-o's always been a basket case!,” Vortex cut in, waving a servo flippantly. “What ever could that aft be doing that isn't strange?”  
  
Blast Off glared at the lynx.  
  
“But.....,” Brawl started softly, “He's talking to himself all grumpy like and his room is a mess, and he's not cleaning it up.”  
  
That got the attention of his brothers. “....say what now?”  
  
“Is he doing this right now, Brawl?,” Blast Off asked. The serval nodded his helm. Immediately, Vortex threw aside his porn magazine, leaping off the couch and slinking up the stairs like some silent shadow. Scowling, the older kittycon put down his own book as well, him and Brawl following in a slower procession.  
  
Vortex was already huddled at their sire's door by the time they reached the landing; quietly, the two mechs shifted into position alongside the lynx, peeking through the gap and into Onslaught's room. Being the strict and orderly mech that he was, Onslaught usually kept his room and his house in a constant state of cleanliness. There was never an item where it wasn't supposed to be when it came to the neat kittycon.  
  
His room did not look that way now.  
  
Clothes were thrown all over the berth in one giant pile and were spilling over onto the floor, while various colognes were placed haphazardly about the room; one on the nightstand, another fallen on the floor, and two more tangled up in a discarded sweater. Before the kittycons could ponder as to what sort of madness was unfolding in their sire's berthroom, there came a disgruntled growl from farther around the corner. Immediately, they shifted angle, staring in disbelief as they caught sight of Onslaught, standing in front of his bathroom mirror and wrestling with a tie around his neck cables.  
  
“....stupid..... can't.... useless..... glitch!!,” the serval hissed to himself, giving up in his attempts to do up the tie, ripping it off with a roar and throwing it towards the pile on his berth. Huffing, Onslaught turned and stomped off towards his closet, yanking the doors open angrily and shuffling through the clothes, still muttering what sounded like curses and death-threats under his intakes.  
  
Sensing that their lives could be in danger if they remained any longer and were discovered by the irate serval, the three mechs quietly backed away from the door, heading back downstairs.  
  
“Well.....,” Blast Off sighed once they were in the clear.  
  
“W-what's wrong with daddy?,” Brawl asked, twittering into a panic. “I-is he sick?! Is he going to die?! I don't want daddy to die! DON'T LET DADDY DIE BLASTY!”  
  
Vortex cackled as the serval grabbed the siamese, shaking him wildly. “Daddy-o ain't sick Brawly,” the lynx smirked devilishly, “Not unless you call getting bit by the love-bug being ill.”  
  
“H-huh?,” the brown mech looked at his brother in confusion, shuttering his optics tearfully.  
  
The other kittycon's grin grew. “Can't you figure it out? Daddy-o's got a crush.” Vortex paused to laugh his aft off, twirling into the living room and collapsing onto the couch as cackled still. “The big grump is finally chasing some tail again! HA HA HA HA! I wonder what kind of wrinkled, wheelchair-bound, desert valve bot he's going to bring home.”  
  
Lost in his own joke, the lynx broke down into unstoppable giggles, draping a servo over his visor as he threw his helm back with cruel glee. Ignoring him, Blast Off turned to the slightly perplexed Brawl, patting his brother's helm quickly. “Dad is not sick,” he clarified for the other kittycon. “Put your worries to rest.”  
  
Walking into the living room, the siamese grabbed his book and left again, to go find himself a quiet place to continue reading undisturbed. Brawl stood where he had been left, glancing at Vortex still laughing ridiculously, before turning his gaze to Blast Off's retreating form. “O....kay.....,” he mumbled, still not understanding anything going on.  
  
 **Title: Savior  
Rating: M  
Summary: His heat cycle comes at the most unexpected time  
  
** Skydive knew he was in trouble the moment fourth period rolled around. Like liquid mercury, the heat spread through his frame, fanning from his nether regions and causing an itching burn to flare from various spots of his body. His intakes came in shorter bursts, though he fought to keep them as even as possible and his vision kept going in and out of focus every time the heat spiked. Its incessant itch was now a pounding buzzing that pulsed on the inside of his helm the longer he denied himself relief.  
  
His heat cycle.  
  
What could have possibly brought this on, the shih tzu wondered in puzzlement. His last heat cycle had been well before they had moved with Silverbolt into their home, and he'd only been influenced by some of the other orphans they'd been forced to room with at the time. He hadn't been bothered by the natural phenomenon since. So caught up in his thoughts was he, that Skydive didn't realize class had finally finished until the students were already getting up and flowing towards the exits.  
  
Frazzled, the blue mech threw his things into his bag, rushing out the door and to the nearest washroom. He could feel lubricants gathering and slicking the inside of his valve, and though he couldn't smell it very well himself, he knew very soon he'd be emitting an enticing, pheromone-rich scent. And the last thing the autodog really needed was to draw unwanted attention to himself.  
  
“Just get to the washroom.....,” he muttered to himself, increasing his pace as heat flashed through him, almost drawing a moan from his vocalizer, “G-get to the washroom....... t-then you c-can wad s-some tissue up t-there a-and that'll block the s-scent long enough f-for you to get h-home.....Oomph!”  
  
Trying to turn the corner too quickly, Skydive ran smack dab into something, wobbling backwards and rubbing his stinging face. “Well now....,” husked a jeering voice, “What do we have here?”  
  
Optics onlining with fright, the shih tzu realized he'd run straight into another large autodog. With friends. Opening his mouth to apologize, the blue mech felt his words crumble as he caught the mechs sniff the air deeply, their optics flaring in surprise and glee. “Looks like the bookworm's in heat,” the leader, the one Skydive had run into, growled lustfully, his servo snapping forwards and grabbing the smaller 'bot before he could flee. “What do you guys' think? Should we help him with his lil' problem?”  
  
A round of laughter.  
  
“N-no, listen, y-you can't-,” Skydive tried to reason as he was pulled back to the group. “Stop! I d-don't.... Help! HE-”  
  
The other autodog slapped his big servo over the shih tzu's mouth, wrapping him in a cage of his arms as he nodded to his friends. “Come on. We'll take this one to the basement and have some fun before the school closes for the day.” They grinned maliciously, some even licking their chops lewdly. He was lifted up in the air and slung under the brute's arm. Screaming into the servo covering his mouth, Skydive bucked and kicked wildly to no avail, tears pooling in his optics in terror at what they'd just discussed.  
  
“Primus,” his captor chuckled darkly, as they turned down an empty hallway, “You're making quite a mess of yourself, aren't ya? Eager to get filled up, whore? Bet ya are. Mmm..... you smell so good.”  
  
The shih tzu whimpered, giving one last squirm before resigning himself to his fate. He could feel his pants getting damper, his lubricants flooding in his valve and slowly seeping through the plating, soaking the material. It was what was driving his assailants into such a frenzy, eliciting a few, quick gropes to his aft as he was carried farther away from people and to the basement that they had mentioned earlier. Face burning with shame, Skydive let his helm drop in the autodog's hold, tears streaming down his cheekplates silently.  
  
“And where do you think you're all going?,” a voice suddenly snarled.  
  
Skydive tried to lift his helm and look to see who'd spoken, but his captor twisted sharply as well, swinging his captive carelessly. Some of the autodogs stiffened, and one even threatened the mech that had intervened. A sharp yip followed the idiot's words, and there was several growls and curses before the group started to disperse. The shih tzu was thrown to the floor as his captor decided to bolt as well, each of them yelling after the other as they disappeared around corners and through doorways. Stifling a sob over his aching frame, Skydive tried to push himself up shakily and was frightened when he felt a servo gently grasp his own.  
  
“O-onslaught?!,” the blue mech gasped as he snapped his helm toward his rescuer, finding his older friend staring back at him.  
  
The kittycon didn't say anything at first, his optics narrowed and his lip components pressed into a worried line. “Come on,” he whispered softly as he pulled Skydive to his pedes, watching as the autodog hissed, trying to avoid putting weight on his left ankle, “Let me get you back to my place. We'll get you cleaned up before you have to go home.”  
  
Skydive opened his mouth to decline, but realized what a mess he was, and felt sick to his fuel tanks when he also noted that he couldn't go home like this. It would invoke too many questions. Already, his dear friend had seen him in such a shameful state and that hurt bad enough on its own.  
  
Onslaught said nothing as the shih tzu covered his face with his servos, slipping off his coat and draping it around the smaller mech's shoulders. The sleeves were practically dragging on the floor and the body itself seemed to swallow Skydive whole, but it securely covered the autodog and helped to smother some of the teasing scent he was currently exuding. Smiling as comfortingly as he could when Skydive lifted his helm, staring up at the kittycon with shock and awe, Onslaught gently pushed against his companion's backstruts, leading them to the nearest exit and to his car out in the parking lot.  
  
 **Title: War Room  
Rating: M  
Summary: Onslaught tries to help Skydive after his near predicament  
  
** “Come sit in here,” the kittycon said, unlocking a door and ushering his guest inside, “We'll get you calmed down again then we can worry about everything else afterwards.”  
  
Skydive shyly stepped into the room, his servos clasping Onslaught's coat about his frame still, trying not to look up as much as possible. He still felt sick with shame and he wasn't sure if he was going to burst into tears at any moment or not. Of course though, the autodog couldn't help the little gasp he gave as he took a glance at the room, finding much more than just an office. On the left wall were two bookcases, filled with thick and thin tomes, some of which Skydive automatically recognized and others that he didn't, yet all were military-related. A black filing cabinet sat between the two of them, the locks on its face gleaming through the light of the shuttered blinds.  
  
Two more filing cabinets sat behind the desk on the right wall, a metre long picture frame hanging above them, filled with various badges. Across the room from them, taking up the entire floor space from one window to the next, was a glass showcase. Locked away behind its panes lay war-worn weapons, sashes, flags, indistinguishable bits of shrapnel and metal, and even an honest-to-primus soldier's helmet.  
  
“W-what.... what is this place?,” the shih tzu gasped as he looked around in awe.  
  
Onslaught smiled as he shut the door behind them, crossing his arms behind his back. It was good to see the blue mech do something more than nod and shake. “I like to call it my War room. It's really just my office with some mementos and the like though,” he answered, shrugging slightly with indifference. “I usually keep it locked so my careless sons can't come inside. They have no respect for such historical items.”  
  
The mention of sons surprised Skydive. But of course, he chastised himself quickly, it was silly to think that the kittycon who was so smart and handsome would not take a wife or something of the like at any point in time. The shih tzu didn't understand why such a thought hurt so much though....  
  
“Would you care to take a look?,” the serval asked, holding out a servo towards the showcase.  
  
Any other thoughts that the autodog might have had then vanished as he was filled with almost uncontrollable rapture. “M-may I?,” he tittered back in disbelief, turning amazed and excited optics to Onslaught.  
  
The kittycon choked back his purr before it could slip out. Primus, Skydive looked absolutely adorable with his optics glowing like that and with a child-like smile pulling at his lip components. With Onslaught's coat still draped around his tinier frame and the delectable, musky scent of his heat cycle faintly seeping through, he was positively ravishing.  
  
“Of course,” the green mech quickly replied, stepping forward and first approaching the showcase. He pulled out his ring of keys again, picking a smaller one this time and unlocking the tops of the case, just as Skydive padded up behind him. “Go ahead,” Onslaught invited as he saw the shih tzu stare down into the case, “You can take them out and examine them. They're in good shape.”  
  
Smiling beautifully at such an opportunity, the autodog let go of the coat with one servo, reaching inside and letting his fingers merely stroke over the items within. Just as his friend had said, everything was in great shape, even despite the nicks and scratches deep in the metal or the stains in the fabric. “H-how did you ever manage to g-get these in such wonderful condition?,” Skydive asked, his shy servos reaching for the helmet last and gently lifting it out of the case.  
  
“Well, they're all mine.”  
  
“Y-yours?!,” the shih tzu gaped, his helm snapping towards Onslaught. Trying to ignore the slight burning he could feel in his cheekplates, the kittycon reached forward, taking the helmet from Skydive.  
  
“Yes,” he answered, tone soft with a touch of nostalgia. “I was a soldier in the last war. Almost worked my way to General too before our surrender.” Onslaught slowly twisted his helmet about, feeling at the tears and dings in the metal, before lifting it up and setting it on his helm. It felt almost strange putting it on again; the brim came to the tops of his optics, just like it had when he was a young mech, bringing back old memories. “Most 'bots under-estimate the significance of the little things. The war shaped me, but this helmet saved my life more times than I'd care to count. When the fighting was over, I kept my personal effects to-”  
  
The kittycon trailed off as his olfactory sensors were assaulted by a rich, succulent scent. Fangs baring slightly at the tantalizing smell, Onslaught stiffly turned to face Skydive, finding the autodog looking up at him with glazed-over optics; lip components parted and his cheekplates flushed. The serval growled lowly as he saw his jacket was still covering the shih tzu, meaning that his heat cycle had spiked, driving the delicious scent out stronger from the coat's folds. Onslaught tightened his fist. If he didn't remain in control, he'd.....  
  
His growl made Skydive tremble, the slender fingers losing grip of the jacket, gravity yanking the material from the younger mech's frame. The full perfume of his heat cycle slammed into the serval then.  
  
With a snarl, the kittycon grabbed his companion, picking him up and slamming him onto the desk, scattering all its items to the floor below. Not wasting even an astrosecond, the green mech fell onto the autodog, his mouth attacking Skydive's neck hungrily while his servos pulled the other's clothes off quickly. “A-aaah! Yes! Y-yes, please!,” the shih tzu whimpered in the serval's grasp, dazedly grabbing at Onslaught's shoulders, trying to tug the mech upwards for a kiss while his frame ground needfully into the kittycon. Somewhere along the way, he lost his shirt as well, and the belt for his pants had been ripped off, leaving the slacks hanging loosely about his hips.  
  
Onslaught growled with lust, smashing his lip components with the smaller, sweeter ones, his glossa plunging inside as the other's mouth was opened to him; tasting and ravishing the area, before pulling back and trailing down the exposed throat. “P-primus.....,” he hissed, pushing aside the fabric of Skydive's shirt and lapping hungrily at the heating chestplates beneath him, making sure to dip his wet glossa into every seam and nip at every corner that met his mouth. The kittycon shivered excitedly as he felt his partner buck, gasping and moaning wantonly.  
  
That maddening scent grew ten times stronger, calling like a siren song, fanning the flames of his lust. Suckling for one last klik on the shih tzu's cockpit, Onslaught dipped lower until he reached the source of heaven itself and laved teasingly at the panel oozing lubricant through the seams. Skydive practically sobbed at the taunt, his plating snapping back instantly, spike pressurizing straight into the serval's face, lubricant bubbling and splattering to the desk below. Insistent servos yanked harshly at his ears, trying to force his face down, but Onslaught held firm, his optics wide and in wonder of the pink seal covering Skydive's valve.  
  
He was untouched......  
  
And he could have had his virginity taken and his valve torn up by that group of young, hot-headed pups. Remembering those mechs touching the shih tzu, talking about the things they were going to do to him, filled the kittycon with jealous rage, driving his rationality away again. Onslaught's fingers curled tightly around Skydive's thighs, pulling his legs wide open as the green mech shoved his face in between them, lapping and pressing eagerly at the valve's seal- _his_ , a voice snarled triumphantly in his helm. He had defeated a pathetic enemy and had won claim over this beautiful 'bot in exchange.  
  
“Mine,” he growled, sliding back up Skydive's frame and kissing the shih tzu roughly while he fingered and toyed with the seal, trying to wear it down, “All mine.... Your intelligence..... Your armory..... Your secret reserves..... MINE.....”  
  
The autodog yipped into their kiss as his weak seal finally snapped, allowing Onslaught's fingers to plunge into his dripping valve. “Y-yes! YES! Aah, ahh, ahh, aaaah,” Skydive writhed, helm thrown back and rocking quickly into the kittycon's digits. He screamed as Onslaught crooked them, twisting his wrist and striking hard against several sensor nodes, causing the smaller mech to break down into disjointed begs and moans. “O-oh, o-oh.... pl-please.... m-more! YES! Primus, no, I-i.... ye-yes..... yes, aah! D-don't..... G-general! General, PL-PLEASE!!”  
  
The serval felt the last of his restraint snap, ripping his fingers out of the wet valve and unsheathing his own spike. Pushing the shih tzu flat to the desk with one servo, he used his other to hold one of Skydive's legs in the air as he aligned himself with the clenching passage. With a purr, Onslaught thrust forward, his hips snapping tight against the other's aft; optical sensors rolling into the back of his helm momentarily as he groaned in the bliss of hot, wet cables wrapped snugly around his thick spike, and clenching tighter still. Moving his servo so that it was no longer pinning Skydive's to the desk but instead pressing him tight against the kittycon's chestplates, Onslaught, with his other servo, grabbed the edge of the desk behind the autodog's helm and used it as an anchor as he broke out into a succession of fast and powerful thrusts.  
  
Panting, getting even more and more breathless with every astrosecond, Skydive clung to the green mech desperately, pleading and crying in rapture as he was pounded into. The serval felt himself losing control long before he saw the shih tzu overload -tears in his unfocused optics and a hoarse scream of his General's name ripped from his vocalizer- and finished hard within his spent partner, shortly after he felt the blistering lubricant splash out from their conjoined frames and onto his pelvic plating.  
  
Struggling to catch his intakes, Onslaught pressed both palms flat to the desk top, staring into the beautiful, glazed optics looking back up at him; watching as they slowly shuttered close, Skydive slipping off into unconsciousness as the kittycon gently withdrew.  
  
The serval carefully coaxed the autodog's own plating into covering his intimate components again, glancing down at his own dirty spike and plating. Silently, Onslaught put himself away, zipping up his pants again, noting that they too were stained with their recent activities.  
  
He was torn between satisfaction and horror.


	15. Onslaught and Skydive IV

**Title: Noises  
Rating: M  
Summary: It's not often they hear something like this at home  
  
** Vortex walked into the kitchen, only to hear loud moans and growls of two interfacing mechs. Closing the kitchen door behind himself quietly, he walked out into the hall, visor dimmed in confusion. “Brawly, did you find my dvds again?,” he called.  
  
He was surprised to find his brother standing in the hallway before their sire's office. Blast Off, even more shockingly, was with him and looking downright disturbed. “B-but-”  
  
“For the last time, Onslaught is not in any danger,” the siamese hissed quietly, trying to pull his arm free from Brawl's fierce grip. “He's just-”  
  
Another moan echoed from within the room, making the serval flinch and look at the door in terror. “We have to go help daddy!,” he whimpered, trying to pull Blast Off toward the door, “He's getting hurt!”  
  
They heard Onslaught groan thickly just as the words left Brawl's mouth. Chuckling, Vortex skipped forwards, pushing his brothers out of the way and stepping up to the office door. “Daddy-o's giving himself some much needed attention, I think,” he cooed, “What's he doing? Waxing himself with some of those old, silly war badges?”  
  
Blast Off glared at the rude comment, obviously not taken with the lynx's gross inquiry. “Your disgusting,” he said flatly.  
  
“I love you too.”  
  
“S-so.....,” Brawl made a face, “Daddy's..... playing?”  
  
The older kittycon shuttered his optics quickly, holding back the sigh that wanted to escape as a slag-eating grin stretched wide across Vortex's face. “Why's he playing in the War room then?,” Brawl asked. “Daddy sounds like he's wrestling, but he said no one can fight in the War room.... Can I wrestle too? I want to go play with daddy!”  
  
“Why, yes you ca-”  
  
“NO!,” Blast Off finally snapped, onlining his optics again and glaring at the lynx. “Brawl, he's not-”  
  
“O-ONSLAUGHT! Aaaah!”  
  
All three mechs froze at the scream of rapture, their helms snapping towards the office door. That certainly hadn't been Onslaught's voice..... Vortex lept forward, grabbing the knob and twisting it. They were all shocked to see it give, meaning that the door was unlocked. Sensing the danger ahead, Blast Off grabbed Brawl and quickly tugged them back, just as their younger brother swung the door open, his ears perked in excitement.  
  
The two mechs flinched at the expected yelp when Vortex opened the door and smacked straight into Onslaught. “ _Where_ ,” their sire growled, his servo lashing out and grabbing the grey mech by the throat, “Do you think _you're_ going?”  
  
Brawl leaned forward as the lynx gargled and choked, a claw at his chin in innocent curiosity. “Daddy, you're awfully dirty..... Were you fighting a lot with your friend? Are they in there? Can I see them? I want to play too! Do I have to take my shirt off as well?”  
  
Onslaught shuttered his optics tiredly at his retarded son. “Blast Off....,” he grumbled, ignoring the fingers scratching at his forearm now.  
  
Immediately the siamese reached over and slapped a servo over Brawl's mouth.  
  
“Good,” the older mech sighed. “Now.....” He turned his helm to Vortex, glaring, fangs bared. “I'm going to close this door again, and when I open it, you all have had better cleared out by then. I am still master of this house and I will have my privacy _respected_.”  
  
He pulled Vortex closer, snarling into the kittycon's face. “Or I'll be crushing all that you've got precious in those nasty pants of yours.” His threat said, Onslaught dropped his son to the floor, giving the other two a warning glare, before retreating into his office and locking the door behind him. There was only silence for a klik, aside from the weak, coughs coming from the lynx.  
  
“I'm leaving.....,” Blast Off said flatly, turning on his pede and walking for the door.  
  
“B-but,” the brown mech whimpered, looking back at his sire's office then back to his brother. “Daddy hasn't made dinner yet. I'm hungry!”  
  
The siamese vented softly as he grabbed his coat. “Come. I'll take you out for dinner.”  
  
Brawl purred excitedly, skittering forward and almost punching a hole through the wall as he grabbed his own coat. Vortex, lightly coughing now, rose to his pedes, dusting himself off. “Y-you,” he paused, hacking some more, “You s-slag-eaters c-can run o-off and g-go to C-chuck-e-Cheese's i-if you want. I'm staying a-and-”  
  
Blast Off walked forward, grabbed the injured lynx by his ear and briskly walked back for the front door; twisting the appendage in his grasp harshly with each step. The grey mech cursed and hissed as he was dragged along, Brawl skipping out the door with a thundering boom and following his two brothers happily.  
  
 **Title: Waking Up  
Rating: T  
Summary: He's confused and afraid  
  
** The moment he realized he was laying down, Skydive shot up, regretting the action immediately. Pain pulsed up his spinal struts, crackling along his sensory net with an angry charge similar to a thousand irate eels, before he collapsed back against the mattress, balling the warm sheets tightly in each fist. Shuttering his optics to push back the tears, the autodog slowly twisted his helm, confused and just a little terrified about where he was. He lay in a large king bed, once tucked in tenderly it seemed like, in a room that was equally as large and adorned sparsely with only a dresser, the bed he was lying in, and two nightstands on either side of him.  
  
Pushing himself up slowly, the shih tzu found to his horror that he was currently naked as well.  
  
Pulling the sheets to his frame instantly, Skydive twisted his helm about, trying to understand what was going on. All he could really remember was being in heat, those autodogs at the Academy..... Skydive bit his bottom lip component, curling into himself slightly as his  panic grew, only to be accompanied by a crippling, self-loathing sorrow. It had not escaped the blue mech's notice that his thighs felt sticky and that the majority of the throbbing pain still thrumming through his frame was focused primarily in his valve.  
  
The door opening caught the shih tzu by surprise, and he whipped his helm towards it, feeling his spark stop rotating in pure shock. The same expression was on Onslaught's face as the kittycon paused in the doorway.  
  
“You..... Y-you're awake, I see,” the green mech said, dropping his gaze to the floor quickly, noticing the tears collected in Skydive's optics. The serval took his servo off the knob, using it to grasp the bundle of clothes he held in his other servo. “I, um, took the liberty of washing your clothes,” Onslaught mumbled, still not looking up from the floor. His ears drooped lowly with his contrite. “F-feel free to use my shower....” He pointed across the room to the bathroom door close to the shih tzu. “...and c-change. After, you m-may call your family. I'm sure you'll want to contact them.”  
  
Quickly, Onslaught shuffled a little into the room, heading for the dresser. He kept his gaze lowered even as he set Skydive's clothes down on top of the furniture, walking back for the door. He finally looked up as he grabbed the doorknob again, his optics dim and full of remorse as he glanced quickly at the silent autodog. “I....I am sorry,” the serval apologized, his vocalizer a pained whisper. “I t-tried to remain in control. I hadn't meant to.... I-i.... I'll leave you alone now.....”  
  
Skydive could only watch as his friend left, feeling even more stunned by Onslaught's guilt and the revelation that came with other mech's words.  
  
 **Title: Talk  
Rating: T  
Summary: They can't avoid the conversation forever  
  
** One long shower and an awkward phone call later, Skydive stood weakly in the entry way, waiting for Onslaught. The kittycon had offered to drive the shih tzu back to his apartment since it was late and the distance was somewhat great between the two locations, no doubt as part of his penance. Since Skydive had woken, Onslaught had been keeping as far away from the autodog as possible, making sure to stay in the furthest corner of every room that the two mechs were in. It wasn't the nicest reaction to receive from the 'bot that had fragged him, but it made Skydive feel all the worse because Onslaught had honestly been trying to be helpful before his traitorous heat cycle had driven his friend into responding. No doubt he'd ruined everything for the serval and his wife.....  
  
Plagued with his own feelings of guilt, Skydive didn't notice that the kittycon had returned, until Onslaught was saying, “I am ready. Are you able to walk?”  
  
His jump caused him to whimper in pain before crumbling to the floor. Two warm servos grabbed him quickly though, saving him from his fall, and helping to steady the autodog on his pedes. Embarrassed now as well as ashamed, Skydive glanced at Onslaught before gently stepping out of the serval's grasp and walking stiffly for the door. “I....I am okay,” he assured over a shoulder plating. “I can walk.”  
  
Onslaught said nothing, letting Skydive take his time as he opened the door and walked out into the evening. Wary of causing himself any further pain to his lightly aching frame, the shih tzu slowly walked down the porch steps, hugging himself as he walked towards the other mech's car. Already, his bag sat waiting in the passenger seat. Skydive climbed inside and sank gently into the seat, buckling himself in, just in time for Onslaught to join him.  
  
It was quiet as they pulled out of the driveway, and it kept, even as they drove to the autodog's home.  
  
As they were pulling up to his apartment, Skydive hugged his bag tightly, knowing that he had to say something before leaving the car. The vehicle slowed to a stop at the curb, Onslaught silently turning off the engine and staring mutely out the front window. “Listen, I-”  
  
“I'm sorry.”  
  
The kittycon twisted his helm towards the shih tzu, stunned by the weak whimper. Skydive glanced at him quickly before dropping his optics back down to his knees, trying fruitlessly to ignore the tears collected in his optics. “I-i'm j-just so sorry! I-i, I n-never m-meant to s-seduce you a-and now I've ru-ruined o-our friends-ship a-and your w-wife w-will be u-upset w-with me a-and-”  
  
“W-whoa, whoa, whoa!,” Onslaught cut in, his whole frame turning to the blue mech. “W-who said a-anything about me h-having a wife? And secondly, I took advantage of you!”  
  
The autodog looked downright confused as he turned teary optics to the serval. “B-but, you-”  
  
“Listen, pup,” the green mech vented softly, embarrassed about his flustered response to Skydive's apology, “Y-you.... You can't hold yourself accountable for your frame's natural coding. That's not being fair to yourself. I was the responsible one, I should have been more in control, but I.....”  
  
Onslaught turned his helm away quickly, grumbling under his intakes. Skydive was, understandably, perplexed by everything. A part of him still felt greatly guilty despite what the kittycon said, and he knew he should atone for that. “B-but....,” the shih tzu whimpered, “Y-you have sons.... a-a family! A-and I'm..... I mean..... Y-you must have a wife! O-otherwise, w-why....?”  
  
Skydive tapered off as the bigger mech shifted his gaze back towards him, optics dim and the faintest blush on his cheek arches. “I haven't had a wife for years, Skydive,” Onslaught mumbled, his servo tightening on the wheel. “And my sons are all grown up now -responsible for their own lives.”  
  
The autodog opened his mouth, but closed it again quickly after; his optics shifting about the car nervously for a few astroseconds as he gaped one or two more times. He didn't comprehend what was going on, or even what Onslaught was saying, until suddenly it all clicked and Skydive felt himself blush deeply at the implications. Watching as understanding dawned over the shih tzu, the kittycon turned and faced out the window again.  
  
“I'm an old mech now, probably much too old to even be thinking it. Certainly, it's been ages since I last courted anyone.... I kept skirting around the issue, not confident enough to ask you, nor too sure on how to even go about doing so. I'd meant for this to go a million other ways, but I.... I lost control. I hurt you..... For that, I'm sorry.”  
  
He felt his spark pulse hard.  
  
Onslaught sighed, his knuckles tightening around the wheel. “I-if you don't want to see me again, I understand. I-”  
  
“O-onslaught.....,” the little vocalizer interrupted. The kittycon cringed a bit at the whisper, facing Skydive again hesitantly. Wide, glazed optics looked up at the other mech, searching Onslaught's face intently. “D-do..... do you like me?”  
  
Caught off-guard by the question, Onslaught couldn't stop the blush that rose to his cheekplates at the uncertain, innocent inquiry. Immediately, Skydive blushed in return, dropping his gaze to the car seat again and hugging his bag tighter to his chestplates. “I-i-i'm s-sorry! T-that- I-”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
The autodog gasped quietly at the answer, his spark rotating even faster in his chestplates as he returned his attention to Onslaught. The kittycon was looking down on Skydive seriously, a touch of warmth in his half-shuttered optics. “Yes, I do,” Onslaught rumbled softly. “I'd dare say, I've even come to love you.”  
  
His spark must have stopped. Breathless, Skydive was unable to break optic contact until the serval glanced away shyly first. He could feel gravity start to settle back in then, but it could not erase the buoyancy the autodog felt in spark and frame. He.... he was so happy by that confession. And the young mech would have to be an utter fool not to realize why.  
  
Onslaught started slightly at the slim, warm fingers that reached across the dashboard, curling under and around his servo. He was not prepared for the tender, little smile that pulled at the other's delicate lip components when he faced the shih tzu again. “I..... I think I may love you as well,” Skydive said softly.  
  
He didn't know what to say.  
  
The kittycon gave the servo holding his a little squeeze, before releasing it and cupping the blue mech's cheekplate. He leaned in slowly, giving Skydive amble enough time to pull away if he wanted to, but the beautiful shih tzu only vented softly; his optics shuttering and his servos touching lightly on Onslaught's chestplates as their mouths met in a slow, warm kiss. Purring lowly at the gentle pressure of Skydive's lip components against his own, Onslaught allowed himself to maintain the contact for a few astroseconds longer, before he respectively withdrew, letting his servo fall to the seat.  
  
“You probably should head inside,” the serval suggested kindly, “I've kept you too long and I wouldn't want your family to worry.”  
  
The autodog glanced behind himself quickly, blushing and nodding in agreement. The older mech watched quietly as Skydive turned to the door, getting a firmer grip on his bag and pulling the handle. “Skydive....?”  
  
He paused, looking to Onslaught.  
  
“Tomorrow, if you're well enough and don't have any other plans..... May I take you out for dinner?” Onslaught blushed a little. “I've been meaning to do so for a while now.”  
  
Beaming brightly, the shih tzu nodded, clutching his bag to chestplates in his happiness. “I'd like that a lot,” he replied, giggling a little. “Good night Onslaught.”  
  
“Goodnight Skydive,” the serval smiled back, keeping his optics fixed on Skydive, even as the younger mech left the car and walked into his building. He sat there, watching still, until the shih tzu had gotten through the security door, disappearing upstairs. Grinning like a fool now, Onslaught started the car and began the peaceful drive back home.  
  
 **Title: Research  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Onslaught still isn't sure what the right course of action to take is  
  
** “Soldier.....,” Onslaught called, as he saw Blast Off heading for the kitchen. It did not escape his notice that his eldest son was carrying a box of sweets under his arm. “Come here; we need to talk.”  
  
The siamese slowed, turning to face his sire with mute puzzlement. Glancing around quickly to make sure that there was no sign of Vortex, the green mech crooked his finger, gesturing for his son to come closer. Blast Off did so with an air of reluctance.  
  
“I have some things to ask of you,” Onslaught frowned, “They're not terrible questions, so quit your melodrama.” The younger kittycon merely shuttered his optics.  
  
Crossing his arms over his chestplates, the serval tried to maintain optic contact with his son, but quickly glanced away the further his embarrassment grew. “W-where.... um,” he paused, clearing his throat gruffly, “Where do you young 'bots like to take your dates?”  
  
“.....excuse me?,” Blast Off asked, the faintest touch of surprise in his vocalizer. Onslaught scowled, glaring at his son.  
  
“You heard me.”  
  
Deciding not to bring up the point that, yes, he had indeed heard his sire, but was merely responding to clarify that this unexpected situation was happening, Blast Off vented softly, shifting his grip on his gift for Cosmos. “May I suggest an activity that you might both enjoy. If you are looking for privacy, I would avoid all popular locations,” he advised flatly. “Picnics, book fairs, visits to small locales..... such things seem well received and are separate enough from major crowds that there is a slimmer chance of interruption.”  
  
Onslaught mulled the options over silently, stroking his chin. “And what about dinner? What would be a wise place to take a date?,” he asked, looking at his son curiously.  
  
The siamese refrained from sighing. “There are several, small cafes and restaurants along Ark Avenue. They are quiet, discrete, well-maintained and they are welcoming to their varied patrons,” he answered. “Is there anything else you require?,” Blast Off added, obviously impatient to leave.  
  
The older mech gave the kittycon a look, before he waved his servo nonchalantly, his expression neutral. “You are dismissed, soldier. I thank you for your intel.” Nodding his helm sharply, Blast Off turned on his heel and strode quickly out the kitchen door, leaving his sire to mumble and plan to himself as he prepared for his date with Skydive that night.  
  
 **Title: First Date  
Rating: T  
Summary: It's their first official date  
  
** Skydive had never been on a date before.  
  
It had never been his major concern. When he was in highschool, he'd been more focused on his grades and his brothers. It didn't bother the autodog at all that others seemed to be hooking up left and right; he cared even less that no one seemed to show an interest him. After all, he had bigger things to worry about than some youngling crush.  
  
Only now, as the kliks counted down, did he worry. Onslaught was wonderful in every way, and Skydive was so.... inexperienced. He couldn't help the gnawing doubts that his ignorance would show through during their date and thus, make the kittycon dislike him. Oh, if only he had some former experience to fall back on!  
  
But there was no time to remorse. The shih tzu hurried downstairs at the designated time, spark pulsing excitedly as Onslaught's car pulled up to the curb. They headed downtown from there, the serval leading them to a lovely little lane that was lit warmly by old, steel lamps and allowing the younger mech to choose which of the delightful restaurants they would eat at. Skydive selected the one that had a red door and potted rose bushes in front of its windows. He was happy to have done so, for the food was delicious, the atmosphere pleasant and the mixed waiting staff very kind.  
  
As they ate, the two mechs talked.  
  
“So you have four brothers?,” Onslaught asked, a little surprised. It was the first time that they had discussed their families.  
  
“Yes,” Skydive replied, swallowing his mouthful and patting politely at his mouth. “There is Silverbolt, myself, Air Raid, Slingshot and Fireflight. I am the second oldest, while Air Raid, Slingshot and Fireflight are the youngest.”  
  
“Any of them interested in history like yourself?,” the kittycon inquired, cutting his meat.  
  
The autodog smiled wryly. “No, just myself.”  
  
Onslaught nodded his helm. “Fair enough, I suppose. I have four sons myself, and I was surprised when at least three of them decided to gain a background in the military like me,” he shared. “The youngest one decided to strike out as an entrepreneur instead, but he's been doing well for himself.”  
  
“.... how old is-,” Skydive began, unable to quell his curiosity.  
  
“The youngest is still at least several years older than you,” Onslaught smiled. “My first born is now well into his thirties. I had him before the start of the war, back when I was young and in love..... His brothers came after.” The shih tzu noticed the pause that the older mech made, but respectively did not comment on it. Smiling, Skydive attempted to direct the conversation to lighter topics, resulting in the both of them discussing historical facts once again.  
  
The evening wore on and eventually the pair left the restaurant, wandering around the block for a little bit after, continuing their talk. When Onslaught noticed Skydive beginning to tire out, the kittycon gently wrapped his arm around the other mech and led them back to his car; the shih tzu half-walking, half-leaning against Onslaught in his exhaustion. The car ride back was spent in comfortable silence and when they reached his home, Skydive was surprised to find the serval adamant to walk him to the downstairs door.  
  
“I'd ask if I may escort you upstairs.... but I am assuming that would not be allowed. You haven't told your family yet about me, have you?”  
  
Caught red-handed, the blue mech blushed, his optics lowering contritely. “I-i have mentioned t-that you w-were a friend to S-silverbolt, b-but I-”  
  
“It's alright,” Onslaught cut in, waving a servo dismissively. He smiled down at the autodog, trying to assure him that it really wasn't an issue. “I believe I would not be received kindly by your family -not more so because of what I am, but rather how old I am. I'm old enough to be your father, or maybe even a grandfather, as discovered earlier.”  
  
Skydive did not reply, and after a klik, the serval turned to the door, opening it to leave.  
  
“O-onslaught.....?” He paused, looking back at the younger 'bot. Blue optics were fixed on him again, cheekplates painted lovely with a blush. “W-what about my goodbye kiss?,” Skydive asked, his servos cupped tightly before him. “Is that n-not traditional, when one returns their date home, to part with a kiss?”  
  
The kittycon was floored by the unexpected demand, but a smirk was quick to stretch across his face as he turned to the autodog once again; leaning in, practically looming over the smaller mech as he grasped Skydive's chin gently in his servo. “Stand down, soldier,” Onslaught rumbled lowly as he drew closer, unable to stop the purr that started as he heard Skydive give a little, longing whimper at the command, his servos dropping back down to his sides and his optics shuttering in wait.  
  
His own shuttering closed, the kittycon kissed his complacent partner, the contact sparking a stronger electrical buzz than the one last night had. Slowly, he increased the pressure, tail twitching as he felt the soft lip components give to him easily; the blue mech sliding his arms up and around Onslaught's shoulders, hugging him as he pushed up and into the kiss.  
  
Prolonging the kiss for a few more astroseconds, the serval eventually decided this couldn't go on forever (despite how much he would have loved it to) and he pulled back a few centimetres -just enough to break their lip contact but still within close distance so he could stare into the shih tzu's gorgeous, blue optics. “You..... probably should head upstairs now,” Onslaught advised slowly, trying to regain his intakes after such a powerful kiss. “B-before your family grows suspicious.”  
  
Skydive gave a short nod of agreement. Sighing softly, the autodog unwound his arms from the bigger mech's shoulders, catching Onlsaught off-guard as he suddenly sprang back up, pecking the kittycon quickly on the mouth. “Goodnight Onslaught,” the beautiful shih tzu said, his vibrant optics aglow with joy, “I'll see you tomorrow at lunch.”  
  
Quickly, while the mech was stunned, Skydive turned and unlocked the door; dashing up the flight of stairs and out of sight. It took almost a century it felt like for Onslaught to shake off his daze, and it was with half-bitter disappointment that he realized that the blue 'bot had left. All the same though, he had promised to see the serval tomorrow.....  
  
Grinning like a contented fool, the kittycon turned on his pede and marched out the apartment door, already highlighting this night as a resounding success.


	16. Vortex and Fireflight IV

**C.M.D: Warnings- this chapter contains shotacon and sexual acts with an underage partner. For a censored version, please head on over to Fanfiction.net.  
  
Title: Love  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Fireflight's brothers ponder over a strange occurrence  
  
** “Do you know when it started?,” Skydive asked.  
  
“No. I didn't even pick up on it until yesterday. I mean, he was always talking about a friend, but I had just assumed it was someone from school, you know?,” Air Raid replied.  
  
“What new friend?,” Slingshot growled, trying to peer past the other two and see inside the room. “It better not be someone older, or I'll-”  
  
Air Raid elbowed him to be quiet. “I don't know.....,” he whispered to their older sibling. “I mean, Fireflight's always been the friendly type. Maybe it's just someone from his class? I mean, how serious can one be at his age?”  
  
“I'm not sure..... He doesn't seem to have any strong connections to the other students in his class,” Skydive answered, “And the teacher hasn't commented on it either. If he did have a new friend, you'd think he'd invite home for a play session, don't you?”  
  
The other shih tzu grabbed Slingshot, keeping a servo over the youngest autodog's mouth and glancing into the room again. “....you think it's an imaginary friend?,” Air Raid asked, as he watched Fireflight grab a lace table clothe, draping it over his helm like a veil. The sparkling then grabbed a couple dandelions he had resting on the berth, before half-marching, half-skipping up to a make-shift altar at the other end of the room.  
  
“I mean, it's common isn't it for kids Fireflight's age to have them, right?”  
  
“I suppose..... but usually only when the sparkling is lonely or not able to make other friends, do they then create friends. Fireflight.....,” Skydive sighed, “Maybe I should talk to Silverbolt about this. Fireflight's behaviour..... it's been odd since he disappeared two years ago. I know we didn't want to press him for more information because we were scared that he might revert into a shell, but this.... I don't-”  
  
“No,” the red youngling cut in, cutting off his older sibling. Skydive gave him an incredulous look and Air Raid vented heavily as well. “Let's just write it off as a crush, and leave it at that. We shouldn't trouble Silverbolt with more than what's necessary. He's already got too much on his plate.”  
  
The other shih tzu shuttered his optics slowly, staring through the crack in the door and watching their youngest brother for a few astroseconds, as he mulled over what Air Raid had suggested. “Very well,” he conceded after a moment. “We'll leave the matter be for now. But should anything happen, I'm telling Silverbolt immediately.”  
  
Two helms nodded in agreement.  
  
 **Title: Fairytale  
Rating: PG  
Summary: He daydreams before bed  
  
** It was dark  in the apartment; not a sound to be heard. Everybody was asleep as they should be, except for one little sparkling who couldn't. At the moment, he lay curled up under his sheets, snuggling with his turbofox plushie, staring deeply into its black button eyes.  
  
“I can't wait Ven,” Fireflight whispered to the doll, trying to stifle his giggles of excitement so as to not wake his siblings. “When I get a little bigger, Vortex will come and take me away. He'll be my knight on a big horse, and we'll go live in a palace, just the two of us, and I'll be his princess and we'll live happily ever after.”  
  
The shih tzu smiled giddily, rubbing olfactory sensors with the plushie. “It'll be perfect, you'll see,” he added, “I'll wear a pretty dress and there will be lots of ribbons, and my brothers will all be there as I become Vortex's wife. We'll be so happy!”  
  
Slowly, exhaustion began to tug at the sparkling. Though he tried to keep his optics online, they started to shutter close, and eventually Fireflight stopped fighting it. Slipping into unconsciousness at last, the autodog was soothed by frequent dreams of him and Vortex living together, knight and princess, in love and joy.  
  
His fairytale.  
  
 **Title: Taste  
Rating: M  
Summary: Vortex feels it's time to take things up a notch  
  
** “Hello, snowflake.”  
  
The familiar purr sent Fireflight's spark into a flutter; turning around, he was met with the sight of his favourite kittycon. “Vwor'ex!,” he cried around the lollipop in his mouth. Vortex chuckled lowly at the sight, reaching forward and gently pulling the stick out of the sparkling's mouth.  
  
“You look eager to see me,” the lynx commented, giving the lollipop a lick. “Mmm, cherry.”  
  
Fireflight blushed, playing with his fingers as he looked to the ground shyly. “I-i..... I was hoping to see you again. I didn't know if you were going to come back and see me.....,” he confessed. The kittycon's ear flicked at the words. “A-and, well, I-”  
  
“I've got a new game to play, snowflake,” Vortex interrupted, crunching down on the last of the lollipop and throwing the stick over his shoulder. “A real fun game. Wanna play?”  
  
The grey mech took the shih tzu by the servo, dragging him further away from the open playground and into a thicket of bushes. Stumbling, Fireflight tried to keep up. “W-what kind of game?,” he asked. Vortex didn't answer. “....Vortex?”  
  
“Hush, cutie,” he commanded, a little snappishly. Caught off-guard by the tone, the sparkling gave a little flinch, optics growing warm with rising coolant. At the sight, Vortex came to a pause, sitting low on the ground and pulling Fireflight onto his lap. “Now, now, snowflake,” he cooed, stroking one of the shih tzu's cheekplate, “No need to get upset. We're going to have fun, trust me.”  
  
“O-oh....okay,” Fireflight replied. Leaning into the lynx's touch, the autodog smiled softly, before standing up and kissing the unsuspecting mech on the mouth. “I love you, Vortex.”  
  
The red visor flashed at the innocent gesture, but the kittycon did not comment on the other's confession. Instead green fingers stroked down the sparkling's back struts, lulling the shih tzu into a false sense of calm. “C'mon, snowflake. We're wasting time,” Vortex hummed, reaching down and unzipping his fly.  
  
Fireflight watched with wide optics as the kittycon's spike pressurized between their frames.  
  
A wide grin grew on the lynx's face. “Today, I'm going to treat you to a very special dish. Open wide, snowflake.”  
  
Glancing up at Vortex for a quick moment, the autodog slowly shifted back down, grabbing the kittycon's spike in his two, small servos. The lynx watched, silent, as Fireflight gave a little tremble, before those virgin lip components descended on the erect cable.  
  
 **Title: Brooding  
Rating: T  
Summary: Vortex is acting strange  
  
** Onslaught couldn't help it when he walked into  the living room. He just froze; looking, at his hunched over son, who seemed to be staring at toy catalogues on the floor. The lynx's ears were perked with tension and he even had a servo to his mouth as he grumbled something under his intakes. It was a sight that the green mech had never seen before.  
  
“...Vortex,” he called out, getting rather annoyed with his son's behaviour, fast, “Just what the slag are you doing?”  
  
Surprisingly, no quip or perverted comment was shot back at him. In fact, Onslaught was, by all accounts, simply _ignored_ by the grey mech. Frowning, because that was definitely not normal, the serval stepped further into the room.  
  
“I believe I asked you a question, soldier. When I talk, I expect an an-” The older kittycon cut himself off as he came up behind the lynx, finally hearing what Vortex was mumbling to himself.  
  
“.....worn out..... no good..... no..... can't.... need new..... find here....” And on and on, did his muttering go; equally as vague and disconnected with the previous comment, it sounded. Great, Onslaught thought, my insane son has finally snapped.  
  
“Right,” the serval vented exasperatedly, “You and your creepy mumbling can go upstairs now. You're taking up my space.” A jab from his pede got the lynx to stand up, but still did not invoke any sort of remark from his son. Baffled, Onslaught watched as Vortex slowly shuffled for the stairs, still whispering to himself in that odd under-tone, not knowing what had brought on this change in the other kittycon.  
  
Or if it was a good thing.  
  
 **Title: Push  
Rating: M  
Summary: Fireflight speaks his honesty to Vortex  
  
** “V-vor-” The shih tzu cut himself as he arched, his frame breaking out into pleasant convulsions as he reached his peak, transfluid splattering along Vortex's stomach. Panting, Fireflight mewled again as the lynx continued to thrust into him, finishing a klick later with a growl of contentment. Warm and full, the sparkling watched with half-shuttered optics as Vortex sat back, tucking his spike away and sampling some of the fluid that covered his frame.  
  
“Mmm..... you made quite a mess, didn'tcha snowflake?,” he grinned.  
  
“I-i.....” Fireflight blushed, smiling a little as he pushed himself up shakily, leaning into the kittycon and wrapping his arms as far as they would go around the other's waist. “I don't mind. I l-like doing this with you.....”  
  
Silence from the grey mech.  
  
“Vortex,” the sparkling began hesitantly. He looked up at Vortex, his optics shining brightly, with both adoration and trepidation shimmering in their depths. “I love you. You love me too..... r-right?”  
  
Fireflight quickly bowed his helm an astrosecond after, his cheekplates flushed deeply with energon and his nervous fingers drawing little patterns into the lynx's leg. “I-i..... I love you so much Vortex. I c-can't wait until I'm older,” the autodog gushed, blissfully ignorant as he spoke of his deepest wishes to the kittycon, “B-because, then, w-we can get bonded a-and live happily ever a-after. I'll cook for you, and clean, and we'll live in a pretty, little house that's all our own. I can't wait to tell my brothers about y-”  
  
“Now now, snowflake,” Vortex quickly interrupted. His finger pressed against the sparkling's lip components, silencing Fireflight. “We talked about this already. We have to keep this a secret, remember?”  
  
The kittycon's visor gave a little flicker as the autodog kissed his finger, before unfolding the rest of his servo and nuzzling into his palm. “I-i know,” the little mech replied, “But we won't always have to keep it secret, right? I mean, we'll tell everyone when I'm bigger, yes?”  
  
Vortex did not reply right away, his attention fixed solely on the sparkling smiling up at him lovingly. “.... of course.” His answer was short and flat. Not that the other noticed. He never did.  
  
At the other's response, Fireflight smiled brightly.  
  
 **Title: Decisions  
Rating: M  
Summary: He comes to a final choice  
  
** It was no good.  
  
That's what Vortex thought, and still believed even now, as he lay in his berth, staring blankly up at the ceiling. He'd been fighting it, deliberating over it for a few months -procrastinating, he supposed- but everything had reached its standstill.  
  
The silly, little autodog confessing “love” for him was one thing.....  
  
But there had been no hesitation, no fear, no questions or uncertainty when the lynx had tried something new and told Fireflight to suck him off. The shih tzu had practically fallen on him with eagerness, taking as much of the kittycon into his mouth as he could; licking and sucking and squeezing like giving a blow job was the most normal thing for him.  
  
Oh, he'd overloaded all the same -Vortex would not deny that. He would have enjoyed the warm sensation of the sparkling's inexperienced glossa on his spike a lot more though if he'd been the one to first cajole and manipulate Fireflight into doing it.  
  
Scowling, Vortex rolled over in his berth, turning his sullen glare to the toys he had scattered across his room floor. No, he decided, this couldn't go on any longer. Everything that made fragging Fireflight fun -his innocence, his inexperience, how easy he was to trick and mess with- none of that was there anymore. His sparkling was growing up; becoming a mech.  
  
That.... was unappealing.....  
  
Ah, well, the kittycon shrugged. He supposed it had been a good three stellar cycles while it lasted. Tomorrow, he'd begin the hunt for a new toy. Maybe he'd find someone even cuter and more naive. Vortex purred at the thought, rolling over again and finally settling down for sleep.  
  
 **Title: Sick  
Rating: T  
Summary: Fireflight is ill  
  
** Skydive walked into the washroom, holding a bottle of medicine in one servo and a spoon in the other. “He's throwing up again?,” he asked worriedly. Retching met his audios, answering his question.  
  
Silverbolt sat on the floor beside the toilet, helping Fireflight ease back and mopping at the sparkling's helm with a damp face clothe. “Yes,” he replied as Fireflight gave another whimper, burying his face back into the bowl and vomiting. “This is the third day now in a row. I thought it was just the flu, but he's been throwing up for the past few hours. It's too much.”  
  
The blue mech made his way to his brothers' sides, stroking Fireflight's helm as the smallest autodog pulled away from the toilet again, crying and whimpering in distress as he fell against Silverbolt's side. “I'm worried.....,” their oldest sibling said in a hushed tone to Skydive.  
  
“I know you are, 'Bolt. So am I,” Skydive shared. “But you can't keep missing work like this. What if you lose your job? What-”  
  
The taller mech shook his helm. “I don't care. Someone needs to be here for Fireflight. You can't be here all the time- you'll miss too many classes, and I will not allow you to ruin your chances at having a better future, Skydive. Even Air Raid and Slingshot -though I know they care very much for Fireflight as well- are too busy with school and don't know how to help Fireflight like I do.” Silverbolt fell quiet for a moment. “If I lose my job for caring about my family, then so be it. I will worry about that when it happens.”  
  
Before Skydive could say anything to that, a pained whimper was cutting him off. The two mechs turned their immediate attention to Fireflight, who was curling into the oldest autodog, tears in his scrunched up optics and his servos fisting Silverbolt's shirt tightly. “We need to get him to back to bed,” Silverbolt informed, scooping their littlest brother up into his arms and cradling him to his chestplates. “We have to get him to sleep as much as possible. If this continues...... if this continues, I'm taking him to the hospital. I can't bear it if something were to happen to Fireflight.”  
  
“None of us could.....,” the other autodog mumbled back.  
  
Walking into the berthroom, the older shih tzu bent to lay their youngest brother onto his berth. Silverbolt stroked Fireflight's flushed cheekplates, wiping again at the sparkling's brow. “Why are you still here Skydive? You have a class in a cycle, do you not?,” Silverbolt questioned.  
  
“But-”  
  
He looked over his shoulder plating. “No 'buts'. If you want to pass, you can't afford to miss a single one of your classes. Go,” the multi-coloured mech ordered. “I can take care of Fireflight by myself for a little while. Air Raid and Slingshot should be finishing school shortly anyhow.”  
  
Skydive gaped, trying to come up with a feasible excuse, but his words failed him again. His attention was diverted though when he noticed Fireflight shakily crawling out of his berth and wobbling toward the closet. “Fireflight!,” both Silverbolt and Skydive cried, hurrying for the sparkling.  
  
“W-why.....,” the little shih tzu sobbed weakly, “Why i-isn't he here? W-where... where i-is he? W-where.....?”  
  
Silverbolt reached Fireflight first, placing his servos on the other autodog's shoulders concerned. “Please, Fireflight, you need to lay down! Your stomach-”  
  
The sparkling shook him off, yipping in distress and throwing himself at the closet. Trembling, Fireflight managed to fling the doors open, falling on his aft with the effort. Not wasting an astrosecond more, he pushed himself onto his knees, peering desperately into the closet. “H-he.....,” the little 'bot paused, breaking out into a series of dreadful coughs, the tears collecting in his optics thicker and streaming down his face like little rivers, “W-why isn-isn't he here?! H-he....... h-he was a-always here.... a-always.....”  
  
The two older brothers stood back, torn and confused as Fireflight crumbled to the ground, curling up into a ball and sobbing loudly. “M-my tummy.... i-it hurts. It hurts s-soo b-bad!,” the sparkling wailed. “V-vortex..... w-where are y-you? I..... I-i n-need you.... p-please..... pl.....please..... v-vortex.....”  
  
Jaw locked tightly, Silverbolt quickly stepped forward, scooping Fireflight back up into his arms and carrying his brother to his berth. This time when he laid the youngest shih tzu down, he stayed there. Tears pricking at his own optics, the multi-coloured mech tucked the blankets securely around Fireflight's shivering form; watching as the sparkling silently cried himself to sleep.  
  
“Go, Skydive,” he ordered again. “Please....”  
  
The blue autodog hesitated, before reluctantly turning to the door and leaving. But he knew he would not be able to focus in class, even if he went. For all he could think about was the terrible state his poor brother was in, and the unknown name he had called out for so spark-brokenly.  
  
 **Title: Run  
Rating: T  
Summary: Things only worsen  
  
** Silverbolt rushed into the apartment, expression tight and optics downcast. Air Raid, Skydive and Slingshot -all of whom were sitting in the living room, anxiously awaiting their brothers' return- jumped to their pedes as soon as the two other autodogs came running inside. “Silverbolt.... what's going on? What's wrong?,” Skydive asked, moving forwards to meet his older brother. “I-is, is Fireflight-”  
  
The multi-coloured mech did not reply, dumping the weak sparkling into Skydive's arms. “Quick,” he ordered, turning to the kitchen and opening the cupboards. He began to pull out dishes and utensils, setting them haphazardly on the counter. “Whatever you believe to be essential -go pack it now. There's a couple suitcases in the main closet; fill those, and then your backpacks. Everything else stays.”  
  
“P-pack?,” Air Raid exclaimed. “'Bolt, what -why..... What's going on?!”  
  
“Yeah, what're you being all crazy f-”  
  
“Stop asking questions!,” Silverbolt snapped, finally turning his attention to the other three. “I have a car downstairs, ready to go. We need to be out of here before they come!”  
  
The older shih tzu rushed to the closest, pulling out the suitcases he had mentioned previously and throwing some of their dishes in there. Next, he shuffled through the drawers, throwing objects everywhere and only tossing a few into the suitcases along the plates and utensils. “Silverbolt!,” Skydive yelled. “What is going on! What are you talking about?! Who is 'they'?”  
  
The multi-coloured shih tzu snarled, punching the nearest wall. “WOULD YOU JUST-” He cut himself off, hissing as he tried to catch his breath. “I w-won't..... I won't let them take Fireflight away from us! I can't afford to lose any of you!”  
  
Looking up at his brothers, Silverbolt saw only fear and confusion reflected in their faces and his poor spark withered at the sight. “I-i'm sorry.... I'm so sorry.....,” he whimpered, covering his face ashamedly.  
  
Skydive was the first to respond. Shaking off his stupor, he glanced at the other two, nodding and gesturing for them to go and pack. Lost, Air Raid shakily grabbed Slingshot; the both of them disappearing down the hall. “Silverbolt..... please,” the blue shih tzu begged, coming up to his older brother, “You must tell me what's going on. Why are we fleeing? What happened?”  
  
Silverbolt removed his servos, glancing at Skydive and biting his bottom lip component before his shoulders sagged and a silent, little sob escaped him. “Fireflight..... he's sparked.....”  
  
It felt like someone had punched him. “What?! Sparked! But how-”  
  
“I don't KNOW how, Skydive!,” the other autodog shouted tearfully. “I just know that the doctor's did an ultra-sound to try and deduce a reason as to why Fireflight's been so sick lately and hurting in his belly, and they found a sparkling there- at least a couple months into its development. I-it's..... it's not right..... He shouldn't be sparked at all! He's only eleven!”  
  
Skydive took a step back from his hysteric brother, trembles slowly taking over his own frame and his optics filling with coolant. “B-but..... but then that means s-someone.....”  
  
“We should have pressed for more information. We should have kept a closer eye on him.....,” Silverbolt choked. “I-if only......”  
  
He trailed off, and the blue mech cycled a shaky intake, trying to keep from crying as well at this horrifying revelation. But an even worse one came to his processor and could not be so easily ignored at this time. “B-but.... i-if the doctor's s-scanned him a-and saw this, t-they'll..... they'll have to report it! H-he's underage! They'll take him away from us!,” he wheezed in a panic. “We'll never be allowed to see him again! They'll-”  
  
“.....that's why we need to run,” the larger shih tzu cut in. He looked into Skydive's optics, his gaze dead and remorseful. “Now. Before they can get here.”  
  
“W-we did just as you asked 'Bolt. We've -woah.....” Air Raid skidded to a stop, glancing worriedly between his two brothers, each of whom had tears streaking down their faces. “You...um....”  
  
“You're done? Alright,” Silverbolt quickly interceded, taking the now slumbering Fireflight from Skydive's lax arms and passing him to the red youngling. “Take your younger brothers downstairs and get them into the car. It's the black one. Get in the back and lay low until we come, do you understand me? Make no noise, so no one finds you.”  
  
Frightened by the tense seriousness in his oldest brother's tone, Air Raid nodded, taking both Fireflight and the car keys handed to him. Nodding to Slingshot behind him, the two younglings hurried out the door, running down the hallway in light steps until they could be heard no more entirely. “Go Skydive. Pack what you need. We've only got a couple more kliks,” Silverbolt ordered, grabbing a suitcase and hurrying for his own bedroom.  
  
Taking the spare one, the younger shih tzu ran for his own room, his spark twisting and whirling sickly in his chestplates. He was terrified, horrified, anxious, confused; he didn't know what was going to happen to them, or where they were going to go, or even how they'd keep Fireflight safe when Child Services were likely going to show up any astrosecond, with the police, to take their dear little brother away from them all. But the worse part about all of this was the fact that Skydive couldn't help but shed a tear over the fact that he would no longer be able to pursue his dreams, or finish at the Academy, or even see Onslaught ever again.  
  
Oh, how shameful he felt for even bemoaning such selfish things.....  
  
Still, he'd throw them all away, burn all his bridges and ground up all his chances, if it meant keeping his little brother safe.  
  
And that was just what Skydive was going to do.  
  
 **Title: Faraway Dream  
Rating: PG  
Summary: He drifts in and out  
  
** It felt like he was floating on a cloud.....  
  
Things bounced and jolted, but he was always wrapped up securely in warmth; hovering, it felt, over the entire world. He liked it there. It was nice, soft, free.....  
  
Sometimes he onlined his optics. He saw flashes of light, like shooting stars, zipping past quickly. One after the other. Sometimes it was just dark. Nothing but shadows upon shadows. He wasn't scared though. Gentle servos touched him, petted his helm, stroked his ears. Whispers of wind accompanied them, breathing little things.  
  
He never knew what.  
  
Guessed they must have been tender and warm. He believed so anyways.  
  
Back to the soft, fuzziness did he go again; just lingering about the world, floating on his cloud. Protected and cared for.  
  
And while he was there, he dreamed. He dreamed of home and happiness and secret touches and kisses that weren't to be. Dreamed of warm sunlight, of how small his servo was was encompassed by the other's; how he was hypnotized by the vibrant glow of his visor, and how his spark exploded when the other pulled him close.  
  
Sometimes, dark things -sad things- would creep in when he dreamed. They hurt. But the dreams gave him happy things, so he kept to them, holding on tightly, finding solace in the illusions as he floated in and out of his cloud. Longing and waiting.....  
  
For either the daylight to come back.....  
  
Or for the dream to become reality.


	17. Onslaught and Skydive V

**Title: Press  
Rating: T  
Summary: Is Onslaught only interested in him for the physical?  
  
** Even though they'd technically already 'faced together, since it was a very “in the heat of the moment” situation, Skydive was much more worried that Onslaught would press for another go.... and that he, out of nervousness and inexperience, would say no. It bothered the autodog how little he knew of interfacing and hence, how poor his performance might be when doing such a sincere and intimate act with the serval. A part of him wished to make Onslaught feel good, if not better, and he fretted that he might not be able to do so.  
  
But the kittycon never did press for more.  
  
Skydive couldn't help but to enquire about it one orn, while subtly denying the nagging doubt that perhaps Onslaught didn't really wish to pursue that kind of relationship with him.  
  
“I'd like to know more about you than in just the physical sense,” the serval had graciously answered, his servo stroking at the younger mech's ears. Onslaught liked to pet him often, or even kiss him. Truthfully, Skydive did not mind the attention. “Besides,” he continued, his fingers sliding down the autodog's cheekplate and gently grasping his chin, “There's plenty of time for me to 'know' you later.”  
  
Skydive had shivered at the lustful purr, melting into the kiss that followed next. He supposed that he'd always have those insecurities, but he would worry about them when they became relevant. At the moment, he was content to bask in the kittycon's passionate affections; never pushing him, nor forcing him to take things any further than what he was ready for.  
  
 **Title: Sloppy Joes  
Rating: PG  
Summary: His fuel tanks feel a little strange  
  
** “I think some of it was rotten.... What do you think Air Raid? Have you been feeling slightly nauseous at all?” Skydive turned and looked at his brother, who was at that moment, gorging back yet another sloppy joe that he must have slipped unnoticed into his bag.  
  
At the disapproving look the blue mech was giving him, the other shih tzu swallowed his mouthful, licking at his lip components quickly before wiping at his mouth with the back of his servo. “Oh, come off it, Skydive,” the youngling replied. “It's just a burger. 'Sides, these things are supposed to make you feel sick to your fuel tanks. It's the whole appeal of eating this greasy slag.”  
  
“Please don't swear,” Skydive sighed, turning his face forward again. His servo rubbed a little at his abdomen, brow furrowing as the slight, nauseous throbbing continued. It almost felt like his fuel tanks were pulsing.  
  
“Ooh! Ice cream parlour! Let's go!”  
  
“Air Raid, we're supposed to be shopping for your school things, not pigging out,” the older autodog huffed, distracted from his thoughts as the red mech dashed towards the store.  
  
“Bah, we can always do that later,” Air Raid grinned, grabbing Skydive's arm and yanking his brother inside, “For now, I want to stuff you so full of ice cream that you'll really puke!”  
  
“Air Raid!”  
  
“You say it, I make it happen. Two monster supreme sundaes, deluxe versions please!”  
  
 **Title: Formal  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Onslaught joins Skydive for one of his shopping trips  
  
** The kittycon sat, watching idly as Skydive looked through the small selection of ties, humming and cocking his helm in contemplation as he studied each one intently. Finally, the shih tzu selected one in an oxford blue shade, that had a subtle box pattern across its length in a slightly lighter colour. Immediately, those slender fingers undid the tie already around his neck, replacing it with the new one and fluidly looping it up.  
  
“....What do you think?,” Skydive shyly asked, turning and showing Onslaught how the tie looked.  
  
Onslaught let his optics slide up and down the entirety of the smaller mech's frame, coming to a stop back up at the autodog's blushing face. Primus, Skydive always looked gorgeous. Surprising for his age group, the shih tzu had a preference for semi-formal wear and could more likely be seen wearing dark-coloured slacks and a clean dress shirt with tie rather than a t-shirt and jeans. He'd be such a cute cadet....  
  
Tail sweeping at the thought, the serval smiled, giving his attention back to the waiting mech. “I think you look absolutely stunning,” he purred, “I wish I could tie a necktie half as good as you.”  
  
Skydive blushed deeper, glancing away quickly. “Y-you....um,” he stuttered, trying to focus on something else. “You don't know how to do up a tie?”  
  
Now it was Onslaught's turn to blush and mutter awkwardly. “Well, no.... eh, it's been a while, since.... I mean....” Smiling brightly, the shih tzu turned around and grabbed one of the ties off of the shelf -a deep, slate grey one that complimented the kittycon's plating- tossing it around Onslaught's neck and elegantly beginning to tie it up.  
  
“See,” Skydive said softly, “You just cross it here, fold it up here, loop..... twist, loop again and.....” His fingers gently eased the new knot up to the older mech's neck cables, cinching the tie in place. “There. It's tied.”  
  
Onslaught swallowed slowly finding himself looking down into those gorgeous, warm optics and the autodog's servos still pressing gently on his chestplates. Unable to resist, the kittycon bowed his helm down the last few inches, sweeping Skydive up into a short, sweet kiss. He almost purred when he felt the shih tzu curl his fingers around the newly adorned tie, using it as an anchor and a hand-hold for keeping the other mech close.  
  
So apparently Skydive loved a 'bot in uniform just as much as he did.  
  
 **Title: Bubbles  
Rating: PG  
Summary: They enjoy a peaceful moment together  
  
** On the nights he could ensure that all of his sons were out of  the house, Onslaught brought Skydive back to his place for a home-cooked meal. It was an enjoyable time for the both of them; the serval could show off more of his skills and souvenirs, and the two mechs could talk in privacy about whatever they wished, without fear of insulting or upsetting someone nearby. The autodog even generously offered to help him clean up after.  
  
At this moment, Skydive chuckled warmly as the kittycon blew a slue of soap bubbles at him, before attempting to grab the shih tzu and pull him to the sink. “Silly,” the blue mech laughed as a servo slipped under his guard and around his waist. Skydive tried to swat Onslaught with the dish towel but failed miserably.  
  
Still, he laughed again as he was pressed against the other mech's chestplates, their lip components meeting in a gentle, warm kiss.  
  
Breaking apart slowly, Onslaught stroked Skydive's cheekplate with one of his wet servos, spark pulsing erratically as the autodog leaned into his palm. “.....Skydive,” he started softly.  
  
Blue optics onlined, looking up at him with rapt attention.  
  
“I....I w-was....” The serval trailed off, glancing to the side uncertainly, before cycling a deep intake and gathering his courage. “Some day, though it doesn't have to be now or anytime in the near future.... I'd like for you to meet a couple of my sons. Would that be alright by you?  
  
Skydive looked stunned for a moment, before his expression grew warm and a soft smile pulled at his lip components. “I'd very much like to meet your family, Onslaught,” he replied, “They're a part of who you are and I would like to know everything about you, if I can.”  
  
Smiling again, Onslaught released the anxious breath he wasn't even aware he had been holding; bending down and kissing the kind autodog once more.  
  
 **Title: Concern  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Skydive is upset  
  
** He had been waiting for Skydive to finish school, sitting out on the lawn like he usually did, when the shih tzu went running past. Stunned, Onslaught rose to his pedes and quickly gave chase. “Skydive..... Skydive!,” he called, getting close enough to finally grab the autodog. He turned the surprised mech to face him, his optics searching his anxious face.  
  
“What's wrong?,” the serval asked, feeling a knot of dread twist into his fuel tanks.  
  
“O-onslaught! I-i, i-it's-,” Skydive cut himself off, forcing himself to cycle an intake before fidgeting with his small, circle frames. “I-i'm sorry.... we had a d-date today didn't we? I can't go. My baby brother, F-fireflight, he's ill a-and....”  
  
“Ssh, ssh, ssh....,” Onslaught gently interrupted, pulling the autodog to his chestplates and stroking his ears softly as the younger 'bot gave a little sob. “It's alright, Skydive. Your brother is ill- I understand that. I wouldn't want to keep you away from him when you're so worried.”  
  
He kissed the damp cheekplates as Skydive turned his face up to the kittycon, his servos falling to the small of the shih tzu's back, where he continued his soothing stroking. “R-really?,” the blue mech gaped, his optics glazed with tears. “Y-you... you don't mind?”  
  
Onslaught smiled wryly at the question, not too sure whether he should be insulted or let it slide as the young pup just being emotionally overwhelmed. “Positive. I'd be a horrible person if I demanded you put me first before your family.”  
  
“Now listen,” the serval continued, giving Skydive a quick peck, “I've got business out of town that I have to attend to tomorrow; I will be back after that, if all goes well. I'll meet you here after your classes the day after, and if your brother's feeling better then we can go do something. Alright?”  
  
Skydive gave a little sniffle, wiping his face before smiling up at the older mech warmly. “T-thank you so much Onslaught. For everything.”  
  
The kittycon tried his hardest not to blush. “It was no trouble..... Now, let's get you home so you can go check up on your brother.” Onslaught wrapped his arm around the autodog's waist, leading them to his car in the parking lot.  
  
 **Title: The End  
Rating: T  
Summary: Is this really the end?  
  
** Open; close.  
  
Open.....  
  
Close.  
  
Onslaught sat on the bench outside of the Academy, hunched over and waiting impatiently for Skydive's classes to be finished. His pede tapped nervously and he kept opening and closing the little box he held in his servos, all in the attempt to keep from jumping to his pedes and simply pacing in place.  
  
Primus, he'd never been this anxious before.  
  
A warm breeze blew through the courtyard, rustling the plastic on the bouquet of roses the serval had put to the side, out of fear that he might crush them to death. He just couldn't calm down. Venting heavily, Onslaught forced himself to sit up straight, glancing quickly at the Academy students walking back and forth across the lawn. It didn't escape his notice how old he was in comparison to the majority of them.  
  
Was it too soon? It had only been a stellar cycle that they'd known each other; even less since they'd been dating.... Maybe he was being too impulsive. After all, who could say that Skydive was ready for that step? He was young. Maybe he wouldn't feel this way forever about the kittycon. Perhaps he was just dating him out of pi-  
  
His thoughts were going haywire again, and Onslaught had to mentally crush that train right then and there. Some great strategist he was..... letting his processor sour with insecurities and doubts. Quickly, the mech shoved those doubts back where they belonged: out of his helm. So it had only been a stellar cycle, big whoop. The last time he'd even felt remotely happy with a 'bot, he'd been dating that individual for stellar cycles before proposing marriage and look where that had landed him. Besides, Skydive had not shown in the slightest that he didn't feel the same or more for Onslaught in return.  
  
The shih tzu brought so much life and passion into everything he did, and his optics always seemed to shine the brightest when the things he poured his spark into involved the kittycon in some way. He never hesitated to share something with Onslaught or step back when things became too much for him. It was hard to believe that Onslaught had so much access to the blue mech's spark and to find a deep well of love and devotion for him alone within.  
  
The serval didn't realize he was smiling until his thumb stroked over the form of the ring box subconsciously.  
  
Quickly suppressing it, Onslaught checked his wrist watch, before slipping away the box and grabbing hold of his roses. He sat, warm and content in the bright sunshine of the orn, counting down the final kliks before Skydive's class came to an end, his tail flicking slowly behind him. A gaggle of students flowed out of the school a couple kliks later, and the kittycon straightened in his seat excitedly, but there was no Skydive among or even behind that crowd. Ear giving a nervous, little twitch, Onslaught kept his optics glued to the door; waiting.  
  
Two kliks passed.  
  
Five.  
  
Twenty.  
  
One cycle and thirty-three kliks.....  
  
Slowly, Onslaught rose to his pedes, turning and marching stiffly for the main office. “Excuse me....,” he gruffed softly to the femme working behind the counter. “I am looking to know what the status is of student Skydive. He's in the Business Administration and Tactical Strategy course.”  
  
“And you are....?,” the old autodog asked, peering over the frame of her glasses annoyingly.  
  
“Family,” the green mech answered tersely, trying to keep from baring his fangs at the secretary's rudeness.  
  
The femme gave him a scornful look, telling Onslaught that she didn't believe a word he had just said before turning and typing something on her terminal. “He's not appeared for his classes the last couple days,” she said, “If he's going to drop out, we would prefer that he give us a formal notice, if not, a-”  
  
The kittycon turned away quickly and walked out of the office before the autodog could finish what she was saying. Mutely, Onslaught crossed the Academy's lawns, heading for his car parked in the visitor's area. It took more time than he would have liked (but less than he had imagined) for him to reach Skydive's apartment. He scanned the buzzer door list for the autodog's apartment number, before picking the entry lock and walking briskly up the stairs.  
  
The fourth floor, third apartment.  
  
The kittycon stood in front of the door for what must have been an eternity. Eventually, his servo raised, giving the wood two, quick raps. They echoed almost thunderously inside the apartment.  
  
The astroseconds passed fairly quickly, and still, Onslaught stood there; servo half-raised and ears perked for any sound of life from within. He heard nothing. Fists curling at his sides, the kittycon picked the lock a second time, storming into the house, hackles raised and ready for a fight. He stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he had stepped past the threshold.  
  
Empty......  
  
The entire place was empty.  
  
Silently, the mech walked through the rest of the house, peering into each of the rooms. They all looked just as void as any other room, with the exception of a few items dropped here and there; tossed about and discarded in what appeared to be haste. Onslaught looked into the last room, turning around stiffly to head back for the front door. He paused as a little squeak erupted from beneath his pede. Bending down, the kittycon picked up a small, slightly worn plushie in the shape of a turbo fox.  
  
He found himself staring intently at the doll, even as he mutely drifted back out of the apartment and to his car down front. Once in his car, he threw both the doll and the little box into the glove compartment, staring out his front window as the world slowly grew dim and grey all around him.  
  
 **Title: Drown  
Rating: T  
Summary: Sorrow can drown you  
  
** He had done it again.  
  
Blast Off walked into the kitchen, finding his sire passed out at the kitchen table, still in his seat and with a glass of rocket fuel in one servo. Three, large and empty bottles of the intoxicating fluid sat at the other end of the table; evidence of how much Onslaught had already drank. Hopefully, the last of his stock, after this week's binge-drinking.  
  
With a silent sigh, the siamese set down his things, padding toward the unconscious serval and gently taking away his glass and bottles. It had been a long good while since he had last seen his sire in such a state -and that was only in the most dark of times. Blast Off could only wonder what had persuaded Onslaught to drink himself into such a stupor this time.  
  
Grunting, the kittycon lifted the serval from his seat, draping one leaden arm over his shoulders and shuffling awkwardly for the door. It took him a while to get up the stairs and put Onslaught into his berth, made all the harder since Blast Off was essentially carrying at least two-hundred pounds of dead weight and the fact that he was doing his best to keep the noise level to a bare minimum. Anything louder and Brawl would more than likely wake up.  
  
The younger mech did not need to see their sire like this.  
  
Dropping Onslaught onto the berth with a muffled thump, the siamese straightened up, staring at his sire's troubled expression, contorted even in his sleep. It did not escape his notice that dry tear marks trailed down his cheekplates. The older mech was never one to cry..... He had only done it once before that Blast Off knew of.  
  
And that was when his spark had been broken....  
  
“Fool,” the brown kittycon muttered softly. There was no malice or ice in his words, but the fleeting touch of sympathy. His sire did not deserve to be like this and he was a fool for allowing himself to fall into a similar situation like last time.  
  
But even fools deserved sympathy sometimes.


	18. Blast Off and Cosmos IV

**Title: Touch  
Rating: PG  
Summary: He waits for Blast Off to come see him again  
  
** Cosmos fumbled another chart that orn and gently smacked himself upside his helm as he bent quickly to grab the item. He'd been dropping things left, right and centre all orn, and he could only think one reason why: Blast Off. It had been a week since the siamese had re-declared his feelings for the astronomer and Cosmos had confessed the same in return. By technicality, they were officially “dating” now..... and yet, they'd had yet to go out on a date.  
  
Blast Off was busy the first couple orns after coming back from his business trip, and then the pyrenees had gotten busy as well when a stray meteor brushed close by the planet, causing a couple fluxes and errors in data. Plus, it was harder to see the kittycon after he had decided to decrease the number of visits he made to the lab, stating that he did not want to be a distraction to Cosmos while he worked.  
  
The autodog thought that was ridiculous; Blast Off was never a disruption. But if he thought too hard about what the taller mech might have really been referring to.....  
  
Needless to say, Cosmos' cheekplates would flush with a deep blush and he'd bury his face into his servos shortly after. All the same, interfacing or not, the astronomer wanted nothing more than for things to be like how they once were, with Blast Off constantly popping in and keeping him company throughout the orn.  
  
Probably a foolish wish though, he thought to himself, sighing.  
  
“....Is something troubling you?”  
  
“Bl-blast Off?!,” Cosmos cried at the unexpected question, whirling around and facing the siamese. He smiled brightly, pressing his servos to his chestplates in his joy- and promptly fumbling his chart to the floor again. Swallowing back his little, embarrassed whimper, the autodog stooped to retrieve the item, but was beat by Blast Off.  
  
“Where does this go?,” the kittycon asked flatly. Cosmos looked up, his cheekplates still stained with magenta.  
  
“O-over there,” he replied, pointing. He watched in awe as Blast Off kindly approached his desk, slipping the rolled-up chart into its appropriate cubby for him. Grey optics slid and focused on the pyrenees then, making a little shiver run down his spinal struts. Blast Off's optics always had this way of electrifying him....  
  
“You are finished for the day, correct?”  
  
Cosmos nodded.  
  
“Good....,” was the siamese's response. His words seemed slightly tinged with a purr, though his facial expression did not change from its usual look of neutrality. Walking back to the autodog, the brown mech gently clasped Cosmos' servo, just simply looking at him for a moment. “Would you like to join me this evening for some time together?,” he asked.  
  
The pyrenees felt his spark whirl excitedly. “O-oh! Oh, yes! I would very much like that.” Blast Off nodded, and -still holding Cosmos' servo- guided them out of the lab. The astronomer was silent as they left, but his optics were aglow and his tail swept merrily behind him as his fingers shyly curled a little tighter around the kittycon's servo; receiving a gentle squeeze in return.  
  
 **Title: Rain  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Things are interrupted by the rain  
  
** “Th-that.... that was a very enjoyable movie,” Cosmos started, softly plodding across the lantern-lit field and back onto the main path. He paused, looking around himself in wonder as the soft lights painted a surreal, dream-like scene of the dark park. Who could believe that a few changes of lighting and the time of orn could transform the very beauty of such a mundane park?  
  
“Thank you again for bringing me here,” the pyrenees continued, turning his attention back to his companion. Blast Off inclined his helm to the smaller mech's words, his servo slipping up and behind the autodog's shoulders.  
  
Cosmos only gave the smallest jump at the attention. Throughout the movie, the siamese had been polite and kind; offering the pyrenees what he had on him in terms of refreshments and patiently explaining any questions Cosmos had about the flick. It had been a little frightening when the kittycon's tail had swept and curled along his right side, but Blast Off did not press for any other sort of contact, so the autodog had tried to not let its presence bother him.  
  
“....I do not wish to cut this short, but I fear it's imperative that we head for cover,” the brown mech announced, his servo pressing a little harder. “It will be raining soon.”  
  
Cosmos looked at Blast Off curiously, trying to focus on how he knew that, instead of the uncomfortable crawling of his plating at the other's touch. It was hard to resist shrugging the kittycon's servo off entirely. Sure enough, thunder crackled overhead, causing the last of the park-goers to disappear in a flash. The warm, rainbow glow of the park behind them died off as the place started to close down; staff shutting off the power and  packing up quickly before the storm hit.  
  
Lifting his helm, Cosmos looked up at the sky, now pitch-black with heavy clouds. He shuttered his optics dazedly as he felt something ploink of his olfactory sensor; followed by a second, then a third and then a fourth drop. “I... don't quite think we're going to make it to shelter before it starts,” he commented, just as it began to spit.  
  
Blast Off said nothing to that, gently urging the astronomer forward. Unfortunately, the simaese's strides were long and his legs not, so in a few moments, Cosmos was panting hard and tripping over his pedes intermittently. He let out a little squeak as the spitting suddenly turned into a dreadful downpour, thunder cracking loudly overhead.  
  
“B-blast Off?!,” the pyrenees gasped as he stumbled once more that night since they'd started walking. He managed to catch his balance, thankfully, though with some difficulty as his attention was fixed predominantly to he kittycon who had just abandoned him to continue on ahead.  
  
Confused, and more than a little hurt, Cosmos watched as Blast Off disappeared out of sight; arms coming up to hug himself as rain continued to splash down on him. A chill was just setting in when through the gloom he saw Blast Off heading back for him -an umbrella in his servos. The siamese was silent as he opened the umbrella, holding it above their helms as he stopped in front of the smaller mech.  
  
“I.... I-i, uh, s-see you f-found an, u-um, umbrella...,” Cosmos commented shakily, his lip components twisting upwards in a nervous smile.  
  
Blast Off nodded, kneeling to be at equal height with the pyrenees. “I'm sorry that things did not go quite as planned,” he said softly. “I did not mean to ruin our date.”  
  
So this was their first official date? The autodog wanted to chuckle, but he was both too cold and too aware of how badly misinterpreted his laughter could be just right then and there. Hugging himself a little tighter, doing his darnest to pretend that he didn't feel the tremble running up and down his plating as his wet clothes stuck to his frame, Cosmos smiled widely up at the kittycon.  
  
“.....It-it's a-alright. I-i, I h-had f-f-fun a-all the same!,” he assured, stuttering a little. Blast Off stared at him for a long klik, before the kittycon grasped his chin with two, gentle claws; tipping the pyrenees' helm back a little as he kissed him just then and there.  
  
Caught off-guard by the action, the green mech's optics flared brightly, before he slowly eased into the warm pressure, pressing back into the kiss as his optics shuttered close.  
  
 **Title: Breakfast in Bed  
Rating: T  
Summary: For a moment, he is frightened  
  
** Something smelled good.  
  
Lured by the delicious scent, the pyrenees slowly pushed himself out of recharge, sitting up in his berth and wiping at sleepy optics. The smell was sharper now that he was more conscious and Cosmos gave a little wince as his fuel tanks tightened hungrily. Whoever it was that was cooking -and it had to be one of his neighbours, seeing as how the astronomer only had basic cooking skills- he envied them very much that morning.  
  
What he wouldn't give to eat a meal as alluring as that one smelled.  
  
Sighing, Cosmos shifted, preparing to get out of berth when his berthroom door swung open suddenly. Squeaking in fright, the pyrenees bunched the blankets up to his chestplates, expecting the worse -and flushing a deeper magenta when it wasn't some rapist or serial killer, but no less embarrassing of an intruder.  
  
“B-blast Off....?!”  
  
The kittycon walked across the room, sitting on the edge of his berth and placing the tray that he carried onto the stunned autodog's lap. “Good morning,” he greeted neutrally. Cosmos silently gaped for a few astroseconds, before that enticing smell met his olfactory sensors again. He looked down at the tray, covered by beautiful and mouth-watering dishes -the source of the decadent smell that had woke him up.  
  
“Y-you.... you made this?,” the pyrenees mumbled, his disbelief growing ten-fold. Blast Off nodded.  
  
“I presumed you would need a full breakfast after last night,” he informed, to the other's horror.  
  
Cosmos -who'd begun to relax a little- tensed again at those words, realizing that he couldn't exactly recall what had happened much the other night or even why the kittycon was in his apartment the morning after anyway. Servos yanking the blankets up to his chin again, he glanced away from the siamese, just as heat began to glaze his optics.  
  
“W-we..... we didn't,” he swallowed, feeling the panic begin to rise, “D-do any.... anyt-thing, d-did we?”  
  
Amazingly, the kittycon's optics widened a tad at the fearful inquiry. He quickly reached out, and despite the flinch the autodog gave at the approach of his claws, he gently grasped Cosmos' chin; turning the other mech's helm to him.  
  
“You mean too much to me to do such cowardly acts,” Blast Off whispered, his optics locking with the pyrenees. “I look forward to the day when I may connect with you, but I will not dishonour you by taking advantage, when you are either unwilling or unaware. Only after you have made that choice, fully and without influence, shall I then act.”  
  
Cosmos didn't know what to say to that. His spark was all a flutter and his fuel tanks clenched intermittently; even his intakes were coming in short, quick bursts and it felt as if he might faint from lack of air. But despite all these seemingly negative signs, the astronomer was actually.... happy. Completely, over-whelming, spark-seizingly happy.  
  
Blast Off stroked a thumb across his cheekplate, wiping away the tears that the pyrenees wasn't even aware had collected. “May I kiss you?,” the siamese asked. The green mech released the blankets, grasping the other mech's servo.  
  
“Please,” he practically whimpered, melting when the kittycon closed the last of the distance between them, kissing him soundly.  
  
 **Title: Burn  
Rating: T  
Summary: He's hotter than others think  
  
** The first time Blast Off had kissed him, it had been under the telescope in his office.  
  
The second time Blast Off had kissed him was in the park, under an umbrella while it rained.  
  
The third time Blast Off had kissed him had been out in public, on a street corner, in clear view of everyone around.....  
  
Everyone said that Blast Off was aloof; silent, detached, distant. Cold, would be another term. They said that he couldn't feel anything, or ever care about anyone. That he was empty inside. Hollow. Ice.  
  
But they were all wrong.  
  
They didn't know the siamese like Cosmos did. They never felt the gentleness of his touch; how cautious and tender his claws were as they cupped his cheekplates, always wary of causing his partner harm. They never saw in his half-shuttered optics, the hundreds of words reflected there, whispering and sharing with the autodog all of his thoughts. None of them ever had the kittycon pull them closer and felt his mouth softly press against their own as Cosmos did; connecting them with the first, warm spark and then engulfing the astronomer in the flames of Blast Off's affections.  
  
The kittycon was not ice. He was a cool, blue fire that could both burn and soothe; fanning further and burning with a bright, white hot intensity whenever he had the pyrenees in his grasp.  
  
Others simply did not know Blast Off, could not see the vibrant, pulsing spark that shone like a star beneath the chilled veil of the kittycon's plating. To them, he was just cold stone; callous and unfeeling. Cosmos did not mind that they thought that. He knew better all the same, and held lovingly in Blast Off's arms, he found that everyone's opinion on this quiet, intelligent mech meant very little when he was already held so close to his spark.  
  
 **Title: Steps  
Rating: T  
Summary: Will they be moving forward or back?  
  
** It took him several months, but Cosmos finally made a decision. “Blast Off, would you like to move in with me?”  
  
The kittycon had been frequenting his home recently; making dinner, even cleaning, but if he slept over, he would recharge on the couch instead of joining the autodog in his room. Understandable, Cosmos supposed, since the siamese was very gentle-mechly and seemed to hold to the old tradition that two 'bots should not share one berth unless bonded. Still, it was a little ridiculous to have Blast Off over so often and for him not to simple be living there as well.  
  
Which is why Cosmos had even put the suggestion out on the table; certain that the other mech would never bring it up himself, as respectable as he was. It should not have been surprising then when the siamese paused for a long moment after the initial question had been asked. It was only when he continued to say nothing, that the green mech began to worry.  
  
“U-umm..... B-blast Off....?,” Cosmos pressed uncertainly, doubts quickly piling up. They were ready for this kind of step in their relationship.... weren't they?  
  
The kittycon shuttered his optics, gently pushing Cosmos to sit on the couch while he kneeled before the autodog. The pyrenees grasped the brown mech's fingers, squeezing them anxiously between his own two servos. Blast Off ignored this.  
  
“Are you sure....?,” he asked, grey optics peering into the other's intensely. “You may change your mind, if you wish.”  
  
“N-no!,” Cosmos exclaimed loudly; blushing in embarrassment a klik after. “No.... I-i, I r-really want y-you to l-live here. W-we've been to-together n-now for t-two years a-and I.... I t-thought, I-i.... I r-really lo-love you... a-and.....”  
  
The autodog cut himself off as he was overwhelmed by tears. His anxious and dark thoughts were stopped in their rampage as Blast Off leaned in; kissing his cheekplates fleetingly, before catching his mouth last. It seemed to take ages before they parted again -not that Cosmos was really complaining. Shuttering his optics, looking straight into the grey orbs hovering so close to his own, the pyrenees could only gape soundlessly, still in a daze from the impromptu kiss.  
  
“Thank you...,” Blast Off said, stroking the autodog's cheekplate again, “I am very glad to hear you say that. But, before I make my decision, I would like us to discuss things further.”  
  
“T-things...?,” Cosmos mumbled, confused. The siamese kissed him once more, this time on his brow.  
  
“Nothing bad,” he assuaged cryptically, “I promise to clarify later tonight. You must go to work first.”  
  
He didn't want to.  
  
Cosmos clasped Blast Off's servo tighter, anxious fingers picking at the cuff of the other's sweater. For once, the green mech didn't care about his star charts or his telescope or his co-workers whom he loved and cared for -all he wanted, was this kittycon right before him. But most of all, he wanted to know what reason would keep Blast Off from replying to his innocent question, and to do so without giving him a clear answer as to why he was rejecting the pyrenees' offer.  
  
Not wanting to upset Blast Off with his tears again, Cosmos resignedly let go of the siamese's servo; pushing himself up and around the taller mech. He didn't say anything to the burning, silent curious stares he could feel on his backstruts as the astronomer went about preparing for work.  
  
 **Title: Little Note  
Rating: T  
Summary: This wasn't the answer he was expecting  
  
** He rushed through the orn, making one or more mistakes on his calculations he knew, as he waited for his shift to finish. As soon as it was five o'clock, Cosmos was throwing off his labcoat, leaving his work where ever it happened to be lying that moment, and waddling quickly out the door. Normally, he liked to walk to work, seeing as he only lived a few blocks away from the Science Department but he couldn't handle such a slow pace and ended up paying the fare to catch the transit home.  
  
Keys jingling in his servos, the pyrenees nervously unlocked his door, walking inside, half-expecting to find Blast Off already waiting there.  
  
There was no one.  
  
His spark withered slowly as Cosmos walked into his apartment further at a snail's pace, no longer feeling the need to rush anymore. He glanced around him carefully, trying to see some sort of sign that would prove that the siamese had at least been here earlier. But nothing had been cleaned, or moved and certainly, there was no kittycon strutting out of the berthroom to greet him. Cycling a shaky intake, Cosmos turned about slowly, coming to a pause when he noticed something out of the corner of his peripheral.  
  
The autodog padded into the kitchen, trembling fingers pulling the mysterious note off of the fridge door. He could recognize Blast Off's cursive scrawl anywhere.  
  
 _My apologies, Cosmos. Some family issues have arisen; I fear I won't have the time to see you for a while._  
  
As for your offer, we shall talk at a later date.  
  
Be safe,  
  
Blast Off  
  
His entire servo was shaking now as he tried to hold the note steady; the words blurring and swimming brokenly before his optics. He tried to breathe and the action caused him to lose hold of the paper altogether. It drifted slowly to the ground, coming to a rest at the autodog's pedes.  
  
For a few kliks, Cosmos stood there, with his helm bowed to the floor and shoulders hunched up high around his lowered ears, before he turned and marched stiffly for his berthroom; shutting the door behind him as a little sob escaped.


	19. Soundwave and Tracks II

**Pairing: Soundwave and Tracks  
Rating: T  
  
** Tracks didn't know how he felt about the whole being sparked thing. A part of him was disturbed and angered that he was carrying another life force within him, that would eventually be brought out into the world. He had after all been forced to keep the new spark against his own will. But the pomeranian knew that a larger part of him was simply afraid; a series of doubts running rampant through his processor.  
  
How could anyone expect _him_ to be the creator of a new mech or femme?  
  
How could they even _begin_ to trust that he could provide a proper life to such an influential sparkling?  
  
And Soundwave..... every action on the persian's part only confused and overwhelmed the autodog further. He didn't know how to act to the kittycon's advances and loving displays of concern.  
  
But when Rumble and Frenzy were born, all of Tracks' worries and fears were erased by the sight of their little flailing paws and scrunched up optics.  
  
His maternal programming kicked into over-drive and all the pomeranian could think of through his exhaustion was to protect and love those tiny, beautiful bornlings.  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  


“Inquiry: ....what are you doing?”  
  
Soundwave looked on warily at the autodog standing in the middle of the empty room, tarp beneath his pedes and numerous paint cans opened in a circle all around him. Tracks turned at the question, looking at the persian curiously. The kittycon was surprised to see that there were already specks of paint on the pomeranian's cheekplates and even on his designer clothes.  
  
And Tracks wasn't making a fuss.....  
  
“I can't decide on a colour,” Tracks began, turning back to the wall he had previously been staring at. He tapped the paintbrush in his servo against his shoulder plating, further staining his silk top. “I was thinking about lime green, but lilac really stands out. Though maybe we should go with navy blue. Baby blue is too passe, and it feels too much like favouritism. Perhaps violet..... or maybe cornflower....”  
  
“....why does it matter?,” Soundwave questioned, “Fact: blue is blue.”  
  
“Excuse me!,” Tracks gasped, whirling on the persian. “Blue is not just blue! Th-they're different... they've got like, variations and stuff!”  
  
Soundwave tried to keep his face plates neutral. “Status: confused. Paint colour not vital.”  
  
“Urgh, you're so frustrating!,” the autodog huffed irritably. “The colour choice is important! This is the room where my babies will be sleeping and playing and, and growing! It should reflect them perfectly.”  
  
Tracks promptly turned around and stared at the sample strips of paint already on the wall. He cocked his helm to the side momentarily, falling quiet. “No, I think it should be teal. Yes.....,” the pomeranian hummed merrily, coming to a decision. “That'll be absolutely wonderful!”  
  
And the multi-coloured mech abandoned his dirty brush for a clean one, dipping it into a bucket containing the blue-green paint. Soundwave wisely slunk out the doorway, escaping from the nerve-wracking sight of the vain autodog actually doing manual labour.  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  


“No, I don't like it,” Tracks said.  
  
Soundwave turned his helm away, glad for his mouth guard that hid his growing smirk. The clerk before the couple fumbled over the pacifier in her servos, quickly putting it aside. “How about this one, sir,” the femme tried, bringing out another one.  
  
Rumble, in the persian's servos, waved his arms about, mewling softly in want for the soother. Tracks glanced at their son momentarily, before leaning in closer to the pacifier resting on its own silk cushion. His fingers poked and prodded at the mouth piece, testing the sturdiness of the silicon, and the weight and hardness of the base. Standing upright again, the pomeranian turned to his son, with the pacifier in servo.  
  
“Well, sweetie. What do you think?,” the pomeranian asked.  
  
It took Soundwave a nanoklik to realize that Tracks wasn't talking to him. Rumble cooed happily in his arms, reaching for the pacifier being held out to him. The autodog stopped teasing his son, finally putting the soother in the bornling's mouth. The little kittycon squirmed contently in his sire's arms, tiny servos gripping the ring of the pacifier as he sucked on its teat. Smirking, the pomeranian turned back to the stunned clerk. “I'll take another one, please.”  
  
The femme didn't respond for a second.  
  
“Well?,” Tracks frowned, propping his servos on his hips.  
  
Jolting at the question, the clerk scrambled to pull another pacifier out of the case. “W-would you like that wrapped, s-sir?,” she stuttered.  
  
The autodog waved the request off. “No, I'll just give it to my other son,” he replied. Being addressed, Frenzy perked in the stroller, lifting his optics and blinking up at his sire and creator curiously.  
  
Taking the second pacifier and his sons, Tracks walked away from the counter, leaving Soundwave to deal with the bill. The femme rung up the purchase, looking to the kittycon. “So..... that'll be 5000 credits, sir,” she said.  
  
Soundwave swallowed back the sigh that rose.  
  
Trust his bondmate to pick the most top of the line, jewelled bit of designer baby merchandise that he could find.  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  


Soundwave cringed at the loud wailing, ears flat against his helm in an attempt to block out the noise. The kittycon prided himself in being able to face off with many obstacles and come out victorious at the end of it all. This.... was one challenge that he knew he couldn't win....  
  
“Where do you think you're going?!”  
  
The persian cringed again, shoulders hunched guiltily about his flattened ears. Slowly, he turned to face his bondmate. Tracks stood with his servos cocked on his hips, scowling at the other mech. The pomeranian's fur was ruffled, and his clothes were slightly askew, but the dimness of his optics behind his glasses foretold his exhaustion more than the rest of his appearance did.  
  
Though at this moment, they could not hide the annoyance burning brightly in the blue orbs.  
  
Frowning still at his silent bondmate, the autodog stomped towards the persian. “You better not be thinking about leaving,” Tracks growled, coming right up to the kittycon's chassis. He poked the blue mech in the chest plates hard with each exclamation. “You were the one who decided you wanted kids! It was you who knocked me up! So don't you dare think about running out now. These sparklings are your responsibility as well!”  
  
“Assumption incorrect: was not running away,” Soundwave protested.  
  
Tracks opened his mouth to rant some more, but was interrupted by another wave of distressed bawling. The pomeranian whirled about quickly, running to the source of the crying, unable to deny his maternal programming demanding that he tend to his bornlings. Glad for the distraction, Soundwave hurriedly slipped out the door and to his car.  
  
Not that he didn't love his wife and sons, but he was greatly inept at handling the boys now that they were teething.  
  
....he would have to pick up a present for Tracks before he came home tonight in apology.....  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  


It was always amazing watching Tracks with his sons, because the high-class, vain autodog's personality did an almost 180 degree shift during that time. At this moment, Soundwave was witness to his sparklings and bondmate giggling together; their face plates smeared with icing.  
  
“Oooh, you're such a little miscreant,” Tracks laughed, rubbing olfactory sensors with Frenzy.  
  
Rumble squealed, slapping his servos on his highchair's top. The crumbled remains of his birthday cake splattered everywhere with the action; big, gloppy chunks falling to the floor, icing covering his tiny paws further. Tracks surprisingly did not fume or rant as he usually did when bits of flying cake hit him, instead only turning his attention to his other son and smiling at the sparkling.  
  
“Ah, my darlings,” the pomeranian cooed, tickling both of the kittycons under their chins. Rumble and Frenzy giggled further at the action. “You're both so filthy! Mommy's gonna have to give you a bath.”  
  
That was a given. Soundwave could easily see that the twins' fur was sticky from the icing and they would need a wash before bed. For now though, the persian was quite content to remain silent, taking in the rare sight he was certain no one else had seen before.  
  
“Mmmm.......but I might just gobble you up before then,” Tracks growled lightly, pecking Rumble and Frenzy each on their cheekplates. “You both taste so good!” Another series of high-pitched giggles followed.  
  
The red sparkling turned suddenly and stared at the older kittycon, babbling unintelligibly. Catching his son's action, the autodog turned, taking notice of the persian standing a few feet away. “Well, hello, Big Boy,” Tracks smirked. With his clothes splattered with food and his cheekplates spotted with flecks of icing, the pomeranian's flirting was practically ridiculous.  
  
But Soundwave's engines rumbling in response easily belied that perception.  
  
Giggling sultrily, Tracks rose to his pedes, swaying his hips enticingly as he approached his bondmate. “See something you like?,” the autodog asked.  
  
The kittycon opened his arms, pulling the slim mech to his chest plates. Tracks hummed contently, fingers languidly stroking at the persian's broad shoulder plating. “How long have you been watching me, hmmm? There something on my face?”  
  
“Correct,” Soundwave replied. He chuckled lowly at the pomeranian's stunned look, removing his mouth guard and diving in quickly. His glossa licked at a dollop of icing along Tracks' cheek arch, drawing a surprised gasp from the autodog. Pleased with the reaction, the persian dove next for the other mech's mouth.  
  
Tracks moaned into the kiss, lifting his servos up and gripping behind Soundwave's helm, trying to deepen the contact. The kittycon gladly increased the friction of their melded mouths, using his servos to cup the autodog's aft and bring their frames closer. The multi-coloured mech whimpered around Soundwave's glossa, slowly beginning to grind into the persian's pelvic armour as the other 'bot started to grope and squeeze the plating around the base of his tail.  
  
A perplexed little mewl had Tracks jumping away from the kittycon immediately though, leaving Soundwave to shutter his optics stupidly behind his visor. “Inquiry: what is problem?”  
  
“What is the p-problem?!,” Tracks squeaked, cheekplates brightening with a blush. “O-our sons are watching, that is what!”  
  
Soundwave turned his helm, and indeed, two bright, inquisitive sets of optics were fixed on the older 'bots. Unabashedly, he returned his attention to his flustered bondmate. “Presence: inconsequential,” he replied.  
  
The pomeranian only blushed further, scowling at the persian. With a huff, the autodog turned on his pede, scooping up his two sparklings and tromping out of the room. Rumble and Frenzy giggled all the way, squirming in their creator's hold as if it were all a game. Soundwave sighed slightly, replacing his mouth guard. Tracks' maternal programming was beginning to become a nuisance....  
  
It had been megacycles since he had last been able to interface with his bondmate and the kittycon was beginning to feel neglected if nothing else. In a bit of a foul mood now, the blue mech skulked off to his office, intent on doing some business to pass the time.  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  


Since giving birth to the twins, Tracks had been feeling sort of.... down.  
  
It wasn't so much to do with the new change of lifestyle or being bonded that was conflicting the pomeranian, instead it was the state of his frame. Even though his chassis had slimmed out again quickly after Rumble and Frenzy were born, the mech could still feel the stretch and tautness in the seams from where his frame had swollen carrying the two sparks. It greatly unsettled Tracks, who after spending so much time as an escort, placed a great deal of importance on his appearance.  
  
Constantly having this hovering about the back of his processor only made Tracks all the more nervous. He feared that he was no longer beautiful, because that's how he felt himself, and he began to fret that Soundwave would not want him if he was no longer appealing. Their relationship was still fairly young after all, and the pomeranian unfortunately didn't have enough confidence to believe what the kittycon told him.  
  
It didn't help that Soundwave kept making advances on him, further increasing the autodog's unease.  
  
Soundwave though was not impressed by Tracks' silence. He approached his bondmate one orn after putting the twins down for a nap. “Explanation: reason for avoidance.”  
  
Tracks startled at the query, and actually attempted to flee. The kittycon blocked his path though, putting both servos on the pomeranian's shoulders so that he would be forced to look at the blue mech. Frowning, Tracks glared up at Soundwave. “I haven't been avoiding you,” he replied.  
  
The persian did not vocally respond to that. Instead, he slid a servo down the autodog's frame, cupping it just about Tracks' tail. The multi-coloured mech practically quailed at the touch, shifting uncomfortably. “Point: you are unnerved by my touch. Inquiry: why?,” Soundwave asked.  
  
For an astrosecond, it looked as if the pomeranian would not reply, but then Tracks was huffing irritably, stomping a pede on the floor. “I don't understand why you like to run around in circles endlessly like this, tormenting me before you decide that you've had your finish!,” he bit out angrily. “I know I'm not attractive anymore, but that's no reason to tease me continuously.”  
  
Soundwave's grip slackened with simple shock at the autodog's statement. He was understandably angry for a nanoklik, before he calmed again. The pulses coming over from Tracks' side of the bond were emitting deep waves of depression and fear: fear of rejection and abandonment; and sadness that now clearly displayed that the pomeranian's outrageous comments stemmed from a complicated belief that if he was no longer sexy, then he would not be wanted. To that, the persian scooped Tracks up into his arms tight, sealing his lip components against the other's. With his servos, he stroked and petted the slim mech's fur, drawing pleased moans and whimpers from the pomeranian.  
  
“Status: beautiful,” he informed, breaking apart from the kiss a klik later. “Nothing can change that.”  
  
“L-liar....,” Tracks panted. “B-beauty fades with the ebb of time.”  
  
“Incorrect,” the kittycon replied. “Tracks: is, and always will be, beautiful to my optics.” That, made the autodog flush deeply with embarrassment, shock and hope. Feeling the waves of love his bondmate was transmitting through their bond soothed any and all worries that Tracks had still; he curled instantly into the persian's warm embrace, humming contently.  
  
“Mission: tomorrow night, we have a romantic dinner just the two of us,” Soundwave said, his servos petting the pomeranian languidly.  
  
“Mmm... and I suppose you want us to interface afterwards then, huh?,” Tracks mumbled, peering up at the blue mech from the corner of his optic. Soundwave's engines rumbled at the suggestion, and the sound calmed the autodog further.  
  
“Action: would be appreciated,” he answered.  
  
“I see....,” Tracks responded. The pomeranian pulled back a bit, leaning up and kissing the kittycon. “I suppose we'll just have to wait and see what happens.”  
  
Before Soundwave could reply, his pager went off. Silently, the persian gave one last peck to his bondmate before pulling out of the embrace and walking down the hall. He headed for his office, where he knew he would be the rest of the night, attempting to seal the deal with some of Iacon's more stubborn business owners. Back in the living room, Tracks stayed standing where the kittycon had left him, tapping Soundwave's wallet against his chin thoughtfully.  
  
No doubt that his husband hadn't noticed him sneaking it out of his pocket..... but that wasn't any of the autodog's concern right now.  
  
The persian had practically set him a challenge, and Tracks was more than happy to meet it. When Rumble and Frenzy woke up, the three of them would be going for a little shopping trip. After all, the pomeranian was going to need something _slinky_ for tomorrow night.  
  
Smirking devilishly, Tracks turned about and skipped out of the room.  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  


Bath time was perhaps one of Soundwave's favourite activities.  
  
It was a good way to spend time with his sparklings, and at the same time see his bondmate get all wet. Tracks, with a spattering of bubbles all along his shoulder plates and his clothes pasted to his frame like a second skin, was a delicious sight to gaze upon. Even the annoyed pout he wore as Rumble and Frenzy continued to fight getting clean was a hard thing to ignore.  
  
It made the persian want to pin the autodog to the tiles and have his way with him right then and there.  
  
As it was, Tracks would allow him to cope a feel, even kiss and nibble at his neck cables. But if he attempted to go any further, the pomeranian would splash him with water; exciting the two sparklings who, thinking it was a game, started splashing water everywhere.  
  
In the end, Soundwave would end up soaked as well. Yet the joyful laughter of his bondmate and sons was a fair trade off, he thought.  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  


Tracks had been adamant against the idea of sending Rumble and Frenzy to pre-school from the get-go, but after Soundwave had told him that it was absolutely necessary, the pomeranian went off and picked the most high-class, expensive school he could possibly find within the city. The twins did not seem to mind that they were to spend their orns in a small room amongst other sparklings their age; in fact, Tracks seemed to be the only one really affected by this separation. Staying home alone all orn long was not an appealing thing to the autodog and so, Soundwave found his credit card usage went up during that time frame.  
  
It was barely two weeks before Rumble and Frenzy had managed to burn the school down. Apparently they had cajoled another sparkling into jamming a fork into a socket. The result was an electrical fire that quickly ate up the school before fire services could arrive. None of the sparklings or teachers were thankfully harmed.  
  
But that hadn't been the worst of it. It seemed that the twins had a long list of misdemeanours against them, and the principal of the pre-school informed the persian directly that his sons would not be transferred along with the other students to another facility. In fact, the little pit-spawned hellions -as the teacher had addressed Rumble and Frenzy- were not allowed to attend _any_ pre-schools within the Iacon area. Defeated, Soundwave returned home with his sons, greeting Tracks in the living room.  
  
He quickly informed the autodog of the events that had occurred.  
  
“....told you it was a bad idea....,” Tracks only replied, immediately turning his attention to his sparklings.  
  
Soundwave wisely decided not to comment about the smugness present in his bondmate's tone.  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  


“Mommy.....”  
  
Tracks lowered his book, looking at his two sons. Rumble and Frenzy stood at his pedes, staring up at their creator. Their set of blocks they had been previously playing with lay abandoned behind them. “Yes, loves?,” the autodog asked, curious to know what troubled his sparklings. They rarely stopped playing unless there was a reason.  
  
“Why don't we have fluffy tails?,” the twins asked.  
  
Tracks shuttered his optics idly for a nanoklik. “Come again?,” he finally said after a moment.  
  
Rumble and Frenzy both pouted, before the blue sparkling was grabbing his brother's tail and yanking it forward. He dutifully ignored Frenzy's yelp, waving the furry appendage pointedly. “It's skinny!,” Rumble proclaimed. “But daddy's tail is all fluffy. Even your tail is poofy, mommy!”  
  
“Yeah!,” Frenzy agreed, pulling his tail out of his twin's servos. “We want fluffy tails too!”  
  
They fell quiet, looking at the autodog expectantly. Tracks cocked an optic ridge, leaning back against the couch. “Sorry, darlings. Nothing I can do about that.”  
  
The sparklings whined loudly. “Why not?,” they pestered, clambering up onto the couch. They settled down on either side of Tracks, plopping across their creator's lap. “Why can't you give us fluffy tails?”  
  
“You can blame your father's genetics for that,” the pomeranian replied.  
  
“.....What?,” was the perplexed question.  
  
Tracks sighed. “Ask your father later, okay loves?” The little kittycons puffed their cheeks out in annoyance but did not budge from their spot. They would seek out their sire later..... right now, they were much too comfortable. Nuzzling the autodog's legs, Rumble and Frenzy settled in further for a short nap.  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  


The twins were spoiled.  
  
“Dad..... you know this colour is out of season right? I can't be seen wearing this!” Frenzy shook the clothes before himself, looking at the newly-bought articles dismayed.  
  
“And I mean, what's with all the cotton?,” Rumble piped up. “It's so classless.”  
  
Soundwave tried not to cross his arms over his chassis. “Presentation: fine. Clothes are clothes. It matters not what they are,” he replied.  
  
“What?!,” the sparklings screeched together. “It does matter!,” the blue twin continued.  
  
“Dad..... you are trying to embarrass us,” the other kittycon deadpanned. “Really....”  
  
The persian wondered why he even bothered to do any shopping for his sons period. They were never happy with his purchases. The one thing they had inherited for certain from their mother was their sense of fashion and preferences for more pricier things. A trait that was slowly beginning to drive Soundwave insane.....  
  
“You really should leave the shopping to mommy, dad.....”  
  
“Or better yet, us.”  
  
Soundwave cleared his vocalizer, interrupting the twins' complaining. “Action: shall return the items. Tracks will take you shopping again later. Inquiry: what is opinion on other purchase?,” the older kittycon asked.  
  
Rumble and Frenzy perked at that. “You bought us something else?,” the red sparkling questioned.  
  
“I don't see how you could find something be-,” Rumble cut himself off as Soundwave put his servos into a box at his pedes, lifting out a black cub. The exotic creature made the twins gasp in delight, swarming their sire to get close to the animal.  
  
“He's so cool! Is he really all ours, dad, is he?”  
  
“Affirmative,” Soundwave answered. The persian flicked his tail a little, glad to see that his sons appreciated at least one of his gifts. They took the animal into their servos, petting the black head. The cat purred contently.  
  
“We need to give him a name,” Frenzy noted.  
  
“Oh, yeah, totally! Something awesome.....”  
  
“Something scary.”  
  
“Something like.....”  
  
“Ravage!,” the twins exclaimed together.  
  
The older kittycon felt his smile fade. “Designation: odd. Why ravage?”  
  
Rumble and Frenzy turned to look at him. “Just seems to fit, ya know,” the blue kittycon answered vaguely.  
  
“Yeah. I mean, you and mommy play that 'ravage' thing all the time, right?,” Frenzy elaborated.  
  
Soundwave kneeled, setting a servo on each of his sons' helms. “Order: never inform your mother about this reasoning.”  
  
The twins shuttered their optics idly, before shrugging.  
  
“Yeah, alright....”  
  
“Whatever....”  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  


“Well _hello_ , lovely.”  
  
Tracks turned at the purr, lifting an optic ridge at the stranger. The black kittycon leaned against the clothes rack, smirking at the autodog. “May I help you?,” the pomeranian asked, frowning at the mech.  
  
The stranger didn't seem put off by his coldness, instead inching a little closer. His optics fell to the clothes rack, his fingers picking at the silk articles on the hangers. “You've been here a while,” the kittycon said. “Been looking at the pretty, little things for some time now. I presume it's not for someone else that you're shopping for. Is it, darling?”  
  
This mech was terribly obvious in his intentions. As if Tracks would ever want to have anything to do with the stranger, even if he wasn't already bonded. But the pomeranian only smirked, deciding to respond back to the taller mech. “Such a _smart, handsome_ cat like yourself took notice of lil', ol' me? I'm flattered,” Tracks purred.  
  
“So.....Which one do you think I should wear?,” he asked, gesturing to the rack.  
  
The kittycon rumbled his engines, pleased by the autodog's flirting. At the inquiry, he reached for one of the hangers, pulling out a sheer silk nightgown, about thigh-high and with a feather trim about the hems. “Mmmmmm....,” the mech leered, being much too forward and holding the nightgown to Tracks' frame, “Wine is a lovely colour on you dear.”  
  
“Is it?,” the pomeranian replied breathlessly, stepping an inch closer to the other mech. “I would have never thought it.....”  
  
“Oh, it's a very stunning colour, love,” the kittycon assured. He pressed the hanger into Tracks' servos, leaning forwards so his lip components brushed the other's ears. “I think you should go see how it fits darling,” he whispered, “And then you and I can go somewhere more _private_ to admire it, yes?”  
  
“Of course,” Tracks said, turning away from the stranger. He made sure to let his tail brush against the front of the kittycon's pants. “Wait for me?”  
  
“I shall,” the kittycon purred lecherously.  
  
Tracks smirked at the mech, before turning around fully and heading in the direction of the change rooms. Once he had turned the corner though, he made a sound of disgust, dropping the nightgown carelessly on the top of a random rack. He picked up the blue Penelope thong he had seen earlier, and the midnight blue Dawn Slip that he'd been itching to buy since landing his optics on it. With his purchases in hand, the pomeranian headed straight for the register.  
  
Coming out of hiding, Rumble and Frenzy picked up the article that their creator had discarded, glaring at the black kittycon from around the rack. “So the pervert can't keep it in his pants, huh?,” Rumble sneered wickedly.  
  
“Then we'll have to teach that slagger a lesson about coming near our mom, won't we?,” Frenzy replied, baring his denta as well. There was only the glow of their visors, before both sparklings were slipping out of sight again.  
  
“Thank you sir, and have a good day!”  
  
Tracks inclined his helm to the cashier, turning about and heading for the doorway. He stopped when he noticed that there was no longer two little kittycons sitting at the bench beside the entrance. “Rumble? Frenzy?,” Tracks called, looking about.  
  
“Yes mommy?,” the twins chimed, slipping before the autodog.  
  
“Ah, there you are!,” Tracks smiled. “I'm sorry I took so long, darlings. How about I take you out for some icecream to make up for it, hmm?”  
  
“Oh, yes please!,” Frenzy beamed.  
  
“I want the super-deluxe chocolate, energon sundae!,” Rumble added.  
  
Chuckling, the pomeranian patted both of his sons on their helms. “Very well. Let's go then, shall we?”  
  
There was a loud crack and crash, followed by a string of screaming and yelling just as Tracks was walking out the door. The mech turned his helm back into the boutique, alarmed. “What just happened?,” he asked.  
  
He had half the processor to head back inside and see what all the disturbance was about, but Rumble and Frenzy each grabbed hold of their creator's arm, pulling the autodog out of the shop. “Nothing to worry about,” the blue sparkling grinned merrily.  
  
“Nope, definitely not,” Frenzy continued cheerfully. “Now, didn't you promise us icecream?”  
  
Tracks looked behind him an astrosecond longer, before shaking his helm and turning his attention back front. “Yes, of course. To Swoop's Scoops then, correct?”  
  
“Yep!,” the two kittycons chirped.  
  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  


“....a....!”  
  
Soundwave lifted his helm from his datapad, looking about his office slowly. There was nothing there to be seen, and no devices had been left on to make the curious noise. Puzzled, he turned back to his work.  
  
“ ....d........aah!”  
  
The kittycon lifted his helm a second time, directing his attention to his pedes this time. He had almost forgotten that he was supposed to be watching the sparklings. Rumble and Frenzy were standing shakily on their pedes, gripping the bars of their playpen tightly. “Concern: is everything alright?,” the persian asked his sons.  
  
The little kittycons opened and closed their mouths, staring up at their sire unblinkingly.  
  
Soundwave's brow furrowed worriedly and he leaned in closer to the twins. “Inquiry: Rumble? Frenzy?” Had they broken something? Though they were moving their mouths still, no chirps or babbles or meows were coming forth. What did that mean?  
  
“....a.....,” Frenzy sounded again. The red sparkling pouted at the syllable he had produced, tail flicking behind him irritably.  
  
“....d-duh.....,” his brother began to enunciate. Rumble fell quiet too, and both kittycons scrunched up their faces in concentration. Soundwave continued to watch them warily still, unsure of what they were doing.  
  
Slowly, the twins opened their mouths again, and in a quiet mewl went, “..... d....ah.....d-da......”  
  
The persian's ears perked in surprise, and his processor whirled. Had Rumble and Frenzy..... did they....? “Request: repeat that, Rumble, Frenzy,” the older mech urged. At the kittycon's eagerness, the sparklings burst into excited grins.  
  
“D-da....”  
  
“Dada!”  
  
Soundwave jumped from his chair this time in amazement. “Tracks! Order: come here now!,” he shouted from his office, not once tearing his optics from his sons. Rumble and Frenzy bounced in their playpen, riled up from the positive response their talking had created.  
  
The kittycon reached into the playpen, pulling the twins out and nuzzling their helms. The sparklings cooed and giggled happily at the action, nuzzling back into their sire. His little ones had talked! They had spoken their first words!  
  
Soundwave couldn't have been prouder.


	20. Silverbolt

**Title: Miles  
Rating: PG  
Summary: It's nothing but rubber on asphalt  
  
** They drove for miles. Never stopping, except to fill the tank again, driving three orns and three nights straight. He was tired. Worn out, beat down, strung-up and just clear out drained. But Silverbolt kept awake, kept driving; kept taking them farther and farther. The more distance they put behind them, the better.  
  
Sometimes he felt like quitting. It was too much, a part of him wanted to scream. Too much to deal with; too much for him to handle all alone. Those moments started far and few at first, but slowly began to grow more frequent as the miles added up.  
  
They were his darkest and most weakest periods.  
  
Anytime they came though, the autodog would glance up into the rearview mirror and just stare at his three youngest brothers all curled up in the backseat, slumbering undisturbed and at peace. Their presence reminded him why he was doing this; why he couldn't afford to let anything take them away.  
  
It made those small, selfish voices shut right up.  
  
Allowed Silverbolt enough quiet to focus again on the never-ending road before them. To keep them moving. On and on and on and on.....  
  
 **Title: Friend  
Rating: PG  
Summary: He's interrupted during his chores  
  
** “Howdy! You must be  the new guy everyone's been talking about. How do you do?”  
  
Silverbolt shuttered his optics at the servo thrust at him, before rolling his gaze up and staring at the autodog grinning back at him. The karelian bear was at least several inches taller than him (which was surprising, since most autodogs weren't. Even Silverbolt knew he was unnaturally tall for both his race and his breed), with flat black, almost grey, plating and a blue visor stretched across most of the top half of his face. Not only was his servo large, but the stranger himself was too. Not so much in height, but he was wide-set and seemed very robust beneath his green sweater.  
  
This was a mech that no doubt could take him down easily, equal height or not.  
  
Somewhat concerned now (and still a little surprised by the other's abrupt entry), the shih tzu turned his helm away, grabbing the rest of his laundry out of the washer and throwing it into the basket he held under one arm.  
  
Caught off-guard by the rude dismissal, the other autodog slowly retracted his servo, scratching at a cheekplate sheepishly. “Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt ya from your chores. I just was passing by the laundro'mat and I thought I'd pop in and introduce myself,” the karelian said. “Oh, gosh slarnit! I haven't even told ya my name yet. My apologies 'bout my manners lacking; I'm Trailbreaker by the way.”  
  
Silverbolt glanced again at Trailbreaker, uncertain how to respond to the mech's words. The polite thing to do would be to answer back and share his own name, but the multi-coloured autodog didn't want to. Call it fear or whatnot, but he didn't wish to make friends in this little, back-water country town. He wasn't here to set down roots after all.....  
  
“Umm, well,” Trailbreaker started, as the silence between them dragged on, “I heard ya've moved into the ol' Wilksons' place, above Tailgate's hardware store. It's a small thing, really, but I guess ya coming in from the city not but a few days ago, ya wouldn't really have much choice but to take it. Yuss is nice and all, but we ain't got any inns. Just big houses, green fields and plenty of cheery folk.” The karelian smiled brightly at that last bit, trying, it seemed, to get the other mech to soften just a little.  
  
Sighing softly, the shih tzu walked towards one of the few dryers sitting in the back of the small building. He knew their new apartment was unsuited for five mechs; he lived it in it after all. It had one large space, that was both the living room and kitchen combined, one tiny bathroom and two equally tiny berthrooms. Silverbolt slept in the living room, while Skydive and Fireflight shared one berthroom; Slingshot and Air Raid the other. If given the choice, the oldest autodog would have chosen someplace larger and more secluded from the rest of the town.  
  
But coming in, travel-weary and only possessing whatever credits he had managed to drain from his accounts before they'd crossed Iacon's border, it was all he could afford on such short notice. Silverbolt was determined though to make it work. He'd managed already to wrangle a job as a cashier at the town's only grocery store, and even Air Raid earned some credits shovelling hay at the nearest barn- when he wasn't in school with Slingshot, of course. Skydive stayed home, as part of their masquerade, pretending to be the one sparked while secretly taking care of Fireflight.  
  
None of the villagers knew about Fireflight, and Silverbolt wanted to keep it that way. It was the only way to keep their little brother safe and with them.  
  
“Ah..... oh, I must be bothering ya. I'm sorry.....,” Trailbreaker apologized behind him. His helm turning unbidden, the shih tzu saw the stranger's visor dim a little sadly, the smile growing wry on his face. “Well, if ya're ever interested, I work over at the mechanic shop down the way. Feel free to find me if ya'd like a friend to talk to.”  
  
Waving kindly, the dark autodog turned on his heel, leaving the little laundry mat. Silverbolt watched him go, not too sure why he did.  
  
 **Title: Complications  
Rating: T  
Summary: When he thought things couldn't get worse, they do  
  
** “W-what?,” Silverbolt stammered, nearly dropping their dinner all over the floor.  
  
Skydive anxiously reached forwards but his brother turned away from him, slamming the pot a little too hard on the counter. The blue mech let his arms drop back down to his sides as Silverbolt turned his flabbergasted gaze back to him; cheekplates turning dark with both his embarrassment and his shame.  
  
“I.... I'm sparked....”  
  
“Slaggit- How Skydive? How could you let this happen!,” the multi-coloured mech yelled, his shock fading quickly to be replaced with anger. “I just-”  
  
“Don't.... don't blame this on me!,” Skydive shot back quickly, rising on the defensive. “I hadn't counted on getting pregnant!”  
  
Silverbolt threw his servos up into the air angrily. “You're supposed to be the responsible one though! I trusted that you had more sense in you than that! But now I have to find out that you're pregnant as well? You're supposed to be the one 'pretending' to be sparked! We were going to play this bornling off as if it was yours! How  can we do that now if you're really sparked! Fireflight can not just suddenly appear, the same time as the sparkling does!”  
  
“Stop yelling at me!,” the younger shih tzu shouted, coolant rising to his optics. “Stop making me responsible for the fact that some aft raped our brother! That's not fair, Silverbolt! That's just not fair!”  
  
Immediately, the other mech fell quiet. Wiping messily at his face, Skydive turned his attention to the floor, trying to focus on the cracks in the tiles as a means to keep from simply breaking down and crying.  
  
“I'm going back to Iacon.....”  
  
“What?,” Silverbolt gasped, stricken. “Skydive, you can't! I forbid it! What if the Authorities are searching for us? If they catch you-”  
  
“I don't care! I'm going and you can't stop me,” the blue autodog cut in quickly, balling his servos into fists, tightly at his sides. He snapped his helm up again, locking his teary optics with his brother's. “I have to go see Onslaught. He-”  
  
“This sparkling is that mech's offspring?!”  
  
“-he cares about me!,” Skydive continued on, as if Silverbolt hadn't interrupted him. “I.... I wasn't just sleeping around or something. H-he's the only one I've 'faced w-with, and I didn't look back once when we had to leave Iacon, despite how much it tore me up. B-but I am carrying his c-child and he needs to know! P-please..... Silverbolt.... you need to understand....”  
  
Silverbolt stared at his brother silently for several astroseconds, before he finally broke optic contact; turning his helm down and cycling a shaky intake. Taking the action as a rejection, Skydive felt his spark begin to ache and his optics filled thicker with tears. He had never wanted to make his brother upset with him, but he couldn't just stay here in Yuss or terminate the fragile life he'd discovered growing inside of him. He heard Silverbolt move before he felt the warm servos cupping his cheekplates. Optics onlining in a flash, the younger mech stared up as the other shih tzu leaned in, pressing their foreheads together.  
  
“I understand, Skydive,” Silverbolt was saying. His ocean blue optics radiated warmth and compassion to the shorter autodog. “I....I understand, completely. Be safe.”  
  
Overwhelmed by his brother's sympathy and concern, Skydive sobbed, touched deeply by Silverbolt's unrelenting acceptance. Whispering calming words, the taller shih tzu pulled his sibling into a hug, embracing him tightly as tears pricked at his own optics. Life had thrown them yet another hurdle, but this one, Silverbolt prayed, they'd overcome and be all the better for it.  
  
 **Title: An Ear to Listen  
Rating: PG  
Summary: The strange mech returns  
  
** “You look a little down.”  
  
Silverbolt jolted at the comment, straightening up in his seat and looking to his right. The karelian stood next to his table, lip components quirked into a pleasant smile. “O-oh, umm....,” he stuttered, trying to turn away. He had been so caught off-guard, he was flustered. “I-it's nothing, really. I....”  
  
“Doesn't seem like nothing,” Trailbreaker said, grabbing a chair and pulling it up to the table. He sat down beside the multi-coloured mech, his visor dim with sympathy. “I'd been hoping to hear your voice for a while now, but I had never expected to hear such sorrow in it. I'm sorry.”  
  
“W-whatever for?,” the shih tzu gaped, his optics shuttering in surprise. He was so stunned by the unnecessary apology to remember that he wasn't supposed to be talking -to this mech or anyone.  
  
The other autodog gave a half-shrug. “For whatever's troubling ya. Ya seem so strong and free, Silverbolt. ....Whatever must be hounding ya now, it must be a great and heavy burden.”  
  
“Y-you..... you know my name?”  
  
At the question, Trailbreaker blushed a little. “I'm sorry. I asked some of the girls over at the grocer's who ya were. I didn't mean no offense by it.”  
  
Silverbolt's brow furrowed in confusion. Again, this mech was apologizing to him -this time, for doing what any general, curious 'bot would do and asking those around his place of employment for information. Why? Why was he being so kind and sympathetic and caring for? “I-i..... I don't....” The shih tzu vented softly, turning his helm away and staring down at the table. “Listen, I don't understand why you're here, but you're wasting your time. You should-”  
  
Warm fingers touched the back of his palm, Trailbreaker reaching out and touching his servo. Again, Silverbolt found himself jolting at the contact, his helm whipping around and his optics connecting with the dark autodog's visor.  
  
“I'm here because it looks like ya could use a friend right about now,” the karelian answered softly. “And I want to be the one to lend you that ear..... If ya'll take it, that is.”  
  
Trailbreaker glanced down, as if just realizing that he was touching Silverbolt's servo, cheekplates tinging with a blush as he withdrew. “My apologies again,” he said, curling his fist at the edge of the table, “I was being very forward there. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched ya without your consent.”  
  
Now being remorseful for simply touching his servo? His servo, of all things! This strange mech, whom he knew nothing about, was being the kindest, most considerate, most friendliest 'bot that Silverbolt had ever met before in all his life. How could this mech be real?  
  
“T-trailbreaker..... w-was it?,” he swallowed. The karelian looked up from the table top, his visor flashing in surprise and a shy smile pulling at his lip components. Silverbolt glanced away embarrassedly. “I.... I probably could use some company, t-though I probably.... probably won't be very talkative. I'm sorry,” he added quickly.  
  
“No, no; it's alright,” Trailbreaker's deep, rumbling vocalizer soothed. Uncertainly, the multi-coloured mech looked back, comforted to see that the other autodog still had that kind, compassionate look in his visor. “I don't mind.”  
  
At the other's confirmation, the shih tzu relaxed a little in his seat; some of the tension escaping him. Optics warm, Silverbolt returned to staring at the table top, falling into a calm quiet with the strange mech at his side.  
  
 **Title: Sleepless Night  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Sometimes Silverbolt comes home late  
  
** It was late when he got in. Hanging up his coat on the rack by the door, Silverbolt quietly moved about the apartment; picking up things here and there off the floor, putting the rest of supper in the fridge before deciding to go check-up on his brothers. Both Air Raid and Slingshot were fast asleep in their respectable berths when he peeked into the room, covers bunched up and kicked about from both of their tossing. Smiling at the cute sight, Silverbolt gently eased the door shut again, turning to the next berthroom then.  
  
He was surprised to see Fireflight still awake when he looked inside.  
  
“Fireflight....?,” he called out softly, pushing the door open more and stepping into the room. “Is everything alright?”  
  
The sparkling lay on his side, gaze focused on the moons outside the window. Their pale glow highlighted the little shih tzu's blank expression and the tense servo half-curled around his protruding belly. Silverbolt sighed. Since coming out here, Fireflight had completely shut down. Sometimes, really late at night, he could hear crying but their brother never shared or found comfort in them if he did. The only way they knew he was in pain was from the tacky tear-stains down his cheekplates they discovered come morning.  
  
Approaching the berth, the older mech sat on its edge, slowly brushing Fireflight's ears. But the sparkling still did not respond to him. Spark aching, Silverbolt let his servo fall to the sheets, turning his helm to the floor and taking a moment to compose himself before standing. The sudden grip on his fingers shocked him.  
  
“S-sil....,” came the weak whimper, “S-stay.... pl-please?”  
  
Immediately, Silverbolt fell to his knees, making himself more level as he stared into Fireflight's wet optics. “I-i'm here, Firefly,” the larger shih tzu stuttered, calling the other by his beloved nickname, his vocalizer tripping as he tried not to sob, “I'm he-here.”  
  
The white mech only whimpered, before breaking out into tears. Torn, the other autodog rubbed and stroked his brother's petite frame, trying to calm the trembles that wracked the sparkling hard. “I-i-i..... I m-miss h-him.....,” Fireflight bawled, grabbing his brother's servo again and squeezing his fingers tight. “I-i w-wa.....wh....w-want..... 'im h-here.”  
  
“H-him.... him who, Fireflight?,” Silverbolt asked hesitantly. This was the most that the younger autodog had said in weeks. If he was to fathom a guess, he could almost say to whom Fireflight was referring to.... and the mere thought both angered and terrified the mech.  
  
But the sparkling only shook his helm, burying his face into the pillow and crying there for a bit. “W-want hi....him....,” the shih tzu hiccuped, “V.....vortex......”  
  
That same name again. The elder brother clenched his servo, feeling tears of rage fill his optics. There was no doubt in his processor that this was the very mech that had turned their lives upside-down so suddenly; the one that had hurt and impregnated the sparkling. Forcing his anger aside for the moment, Silverbolt returned his attention to Fireflight, leaning over the berth and clutching his baby brother to his chestplates. The other autodog rolled into him, hugging him desperately, whispering a stranger's name until exhaustion overcame him, and Fireflight slipped into a restless slumber.  
  
Wiping the tears from his face, Silverbolt withdrew, tucking Fireflight in and keeping silent vigil over him as the night went on.  
  
 **Title: Gossip  
Rating: T  
Summary: In a small town, rumours abound  
  
** Trailbreaker looked up from the magazine rack when he heard the bell above the door give a jingle; informing everyone that another customer had entered into Huffer's General Store. Himself, two older femmes by the cosmetic section and the owner, Huffer, all turned their helms to the two shih tzus entering: a red and a grey one.  
  
The karelian recognized them immediately as Silverbolt's brothers. It wasn't really that hard to remember them, even if he didn't see them very often. They stood out in their small town of Yuss. Watching them curiously, Trailbreaker noted that the grey one seemed very agitated while the other autodog was trying to keep both himself and his sibling calm. They meandered around the store, the younger one stopping at the fridge and testily yanking the door open. His companion quickly stepped forward, resting a servo on his shoulder plating and whispering something into his ear.  
  
The shorter shih tzu shook off his brother violently, turning and storming out of the store, drink in hand.  
  
“Hey,” Huffer started, caught off-guard by the blatant theft, “You can't just-”  
  
“I'm sorry,” the remaining shih tzu apologized quickly, coming up to the counter. He pulled some credits out of his pocket, counting out the money for the drink. Pausing, the red autodog grabbed some sweet candies as well, placing them on the counter as he pulled aside the proper amount of change; handing the credits to the flustered mech. Grabbing his candies, the youngling then rushed out the door, running to catch up with his wayward brother.  
  
As soon as he was gone, the two femmes broke out into hissing mutters. “Did you see that?!”  
  
“So disrespectful! What has their mother been teaching them?”  
  
“I hear they don't have mothers. Which makes perfect sense than how that poor, young ditty went and got knocked up. Don't you know he has no ring on his finger?”  
  
A gasp. “Pregnant out of wedlock?! How atrocious!”  
  
“City folk are just horrible people. It's because they have no morals, no concept of the good, wholesome ways that we do out here in the country. Always running around, sleeping with whomever they can, parents ignoring children so they can continue in their decadent ways and then the children growing up the same....”  
  
“I don't want my nephew to be socializing with those terrible boys.”  
  
“A smart notice on your part. They might tempt your sweet, lil' Swerve into their sinful ways and then where would he be? Sleeping around, smoking like a chimney and tossing back high-grade like the wasted strays do down at the ol' train tracks.”  
  
“Indeed! Well, I'll-”  
  
Trailbreaker had heard enough.  
  
He walked quickly from the store, giving a stiff farewell to Huffer, before ducking through the doorway and stepping out into the dry, sunlit day of his home town. He'd always loved the people of his home, equally and fairly, but hearing them talk such cruel things about the newcomers.... It dug deep into his spark and chipped away at his trust. They knew nothing at all about the family of shih tzus, or even why they had come to a place like Yuss in such a hurry, with only the bags on their backs, so it stood to reason then that they had no right to slander or gossip about the new autodogs so unjustly. But evidently, the townsfolk didn't share the same opinion as Trailbreaker did.  
  
Staring down the two-lane street that made up the majority of Yuss' town, the dark autodog gazed uncertainly at the grocer's store, before coming to a decision and heading for the building. No doubt Silverbolt had heard some of these rumours by now, and as gentle and soft-sparked as Trailbreaker had noticed the shih tzu was, he was sure that the mech could probably use a kind companion at this moment.  
  
 **Title: Secret  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Air Raid questions about Skydive's absence  
  
** “W-what..... what do you mean he's pregnant?” Air Raid stared perplexed up at his older brother, his servos by his side limply. There was shock evident in the blue optics and just a tad of horror too. Fearing how this might play out, Silverbolt quickly took the younger one's servos, grasping them tightly as he looked into his optics.  
  
“Do not think ill of your brother, Air Raid,” he said, “This came as a shock to both myself and Skydive. He'd had just the one night with the mech; he'd never counted on complications. But that's why he had to go back to Iacon. Skydive loves this mech very much and he believes that the feeling is mutual. If any good can come out of this, then I want your brother to be happy. Don't you want the same?”  
  
“B-but....,” the youngling gaped, his optics flickering about the room in his frantic mind set. “Iacon..... T-the feds! Fireflight-?!”  
  
“Will be safe,” Silverbolt assured, cupping Air Raid's cheekplate and forcing his brother to look at him again. “Skydive promised to keep a low profile. He's only going straight to see this mech, and then he's returning to us. Fireflight will be safe as long as he's here with us. As for the pregnancy.....”  
  
The multi-coloured mech trailed off for a moment.  
  
“W-we'll..... we'll figure something out, okay? I don't want any of us to be separated.”  
  
Air Raid shuttered his optics uncertainly, before sighing and dropping his gaze to the floor below. “Why....?,” he asked quietly, vocalizer strained with impending tears. “Why is this happening to us?”  
  
Silverbolt didn't have an answer to that. “You must not tell your brothers,” he replied after a klik. “It is better if Slingshot and Fireflight do not know about this.”  
  
The red shih tzu gave a bitter snort, before he vented softly again, turning pained optics up to his brother. “Of course. I don't wish to see how Slingshot's going to blow up after this. He's already been in a constant rage since finding out about Fireflight.” Air Raid paused, pulling his servos free from Silverbolt's grip. “I-i just..... I want things to go back to how they used to be,” he mumbled, before turning and heading for Fireflight's room.  
  
Silverbolt watched him go sadly. “So do I,” he whispered to no one, “So do I....”  
  
 **Title: Rain  
Rating: PG  
Summary: It's coming down hard  
  
** It was pouring when they finally closed. Staring down into the heavy downpour, Silverbolt shivered, regretting the fact that he had worn a loose, cotton shirt to work this orn. It had been humid and bright when he had come in for his shift this morning..... not once had he expected that the weather could change so drastically.  
  
“C'mon now,” rasped a voice from behind him. Turning, Silverbolt saw it was the owner of the grocery store; an old, kinda grouchy autodog. “I'm leaving and I'm locking these doors up when I go. You best get out now,” he informed the shih tzu callously.  
  
Taking another look out the windows at the dreary, soaked street, Silverbolt sighed, resigning himself to the fact that he was going to have to walk home in that weather, unprotected. It did not escape his notice as he was ushered out the door that his boss had an umbrella on him.  
  
Immediately, wind howled in his face, splashing gritty water up into his optics while the sky upended buckets upon buckets of water on his helm. It took the shih tzu kliks it felt to get the water out of his optics enough to see, and when he did, it was to see his boss hobbling off to his car; umbrella open and protecting him from the rain while Silverbolt stood there, soaked to the plating and getting wetter by the astrosecond.  
  
Sighing again, the mech turned, trying to peer through the gloom and starting for his home.  
  
He practically screamed as his boss's car drove by, splashing water up from a huge puddle and soaking the autodog further. Whimpering, Silverbolt was ready to break out into tears.  
  
“Here,” a kind voice said as the rain stopped falling on his helm, “You look like you could use this.”  
  
“T-trailbreaker?!,” Silverbolt gasped, whirling around to see the karelian standing behind him, an umbrella raised and a smile on his face. “Y-you- woah!”  
  
Slipping on a wet patch of pavement from his sudden spin, the shih tzu began to fall before Trailbreaker snapped an arm forward, catching the other autodog around the waist and yanking him back up onto his pedes. They rocked precariously for a moment as Silverbolt slammed into his rescuer's chestplates with the pull, before they both caught their balance again.  
  
“G-gotta be careful around here,” the deep voice chuckled warmly, “Gets kinda slippery in the rain.”  
  
Lifting his helm slowly, Silverbolt gasped at the suggestive position they were in, pushing away quickly and putting some distance between them. “I-i, um....”  
  
“I'm guessing you aren't used to country weather,” Trailbreaker kindly interrupted his flustered stammering, gesturing to the other autodog's wet clothes. “Most folks know to carry a jacket or umbrella about them when the temperature's especially humid. Sunny days can become dreadful downpours real fast out here.”  
  
Blushing deeply, Silverbolt looked down at himself. “Yes....,” he shyly smiled back, “I can safely say I won't be making that mistake again.”  
  
The karelian chuckled warmly again, but there was no sarcasm or mean intent in it. The shih tzu found himself enjoying the sound. Turning his helm, Trailbreaker looked down the street, before turning his attention back to Silverbolt. “Listen, let me walk you back to your place. It's a bit of the way and I don't think you want to be running through the storm, drenched and water-blind.”  
  
“Well, I.....,” the multi-coloured mech started, ready to decline the kind offer.  
  
“It won't be any trouble,” Trailbreaker quickly cut in. He smiled broadly. “I'm not expected at home for dinner for another couple more cycles. C'mon; you're soaked already. The least I can do is keep you from getting anymore wet.”  
  
It didn't seem as if he'd be getting out of this, no matter how he might make excuses. Venting softly, a self-conscious smile tugging at his lip components, Silverbolt turned in the direction of his apartment. “Thank you,” he said.  
  
“It's no problem,” the karelian answered back, dark tail giving a jaunty wag. Together they walked down the block, engaging in quiet conversation.


	21. Onslaught and Skydive VI

**Title: Gather**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: He decides to intervene**

"Why am I even here?," Swindle hissed, glaring up at the siamese.

Blast Off coolly glared back, his arms crossed casually across his chestplates. "Because," he replied flatly, "Despite however you might feel about him, the fact still remains that he is our sire, and your presence is required at this point and time."

The devon rex scoffed, trying to wriggle out of Brawl's hold again. The slagging serval had one frag of a grip on him though. "Brawl! Would you fragging let go!"

"No," the serval replied with a pout, hugging his brother tighter. "Why you never come to see us Swin? I missed you so much!"

"Hey, what are you losers doing?," Vortex asked, walking through the front door and turning into the living room. His gaze grew practically sinister when it landed on Swindle. "Swin? You're actually here? What? Did Blast Off force you here at gunpoint?"

The youngest kittycon scowled. "Something to that effect...," he grumbled, sending a quick glare to the siamese. The slagging mech didn't even look contrite. "Um... Vortex? Why are you looking at me like that...? W-wait! Don't you come any closer! Nngh! Brawl, fraggit, lemme go! Vortex, I swear if you-!"

"'CON PILE!," Vortex shouted gleefully, leaping the last of the distance and jumping onto his two unsuspecting brothers. The force of the lynx's attack caused them all to crash to floor, where they rolled and kicked wildly, before Swindle was pinned to the floor by an excited Brawl and a sadistic Vortex.

"Vortex!," the tan kittycon wheezed loudly, "You AFT! I'll kill you, I swear to Primus I'll fragging chop off your spike and kill you with it!" Obnoxious cackling erupted from the lynx at the threat. "B-brawl, would you get OFF, y-you big, dumb idiot!"

"So, Swin," Vortex purred from the top of the pile. He angled himself so he could stare down into his brother's face, taunting him with his wide, evil grin. "How goes the independency? Still boinking that weirdo, half-breed albino freak? Tell me the reason you have anything to do that mech, is because whoring yourself out to him is the easiest way to pay your bills, otherwise your choice of frags is pathetic."

Swindle's cheekplates flushed magenta just as his denta gnashed together loudly. "If you don't shut up right now, I'm going to-"

"What's going on here?," a voice snarled, cutting off the entrepreneur before he could finish. Refraining from rubbing his optics at his siblings' stupidity, Blast Off turned to the doorway, watching as Onslaught slowly staggered up to the doorway; leaning against the frame as he glared blearily at each of his sons. It was noticeable that his gaze fell on Swindle last and stayed fixed there.

"...why are you here?"

A quick glance at Blast Off had Swindle swallowing what he really would have liked to say. "...I thought I'd visit and see how you were doing," the devon rex answered blandly.

Onslaught scoffed at the words, sneering. "Please," he gruffed, grabbing the sash of his house robe and tying it tightly around his middle, "As if you give a frag about your stupid father." The kittycon turned and stumbled towards the kitchen. "...I need a drink..."

At his awkward departure, Brawl scrambled up onto his pedes, knocking Vortex to the floor and consequently freeing Swindle as well. Whimpering, the serval turned to Blast Off, grabbing his brother's sleeve with his claws. "Alright...," the tan kittycon submitted, pushing himself up into a sitting position, "The ol' mech's got some serious issues, I'll give you that. I still don't see how me being here is going to help the fragging drunkard."

"It's more preferable if you weren't ignoring him, come this time and point," Blast Off replied neutrally.

"Yeah, yeah," Swindle scowled, "Whatever. When you can pull the fragging cold shaft out of your aft and give me a good reason why I should be here, maybe I'll be more inclined to- SLAGGIT! VORTEX! Get the FRAG off of me!"

"No," came the malicious purr.

This time, Blast Off did face-palm.

**Title: Phone Call**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: A stranger calls**

It was getting late.

Blast Off finished the last of the dishes, wiping his servos on the dish towel and hanging it to dry in its appropriate place. He could hear Brawl quietly playing in the living room, happily by the sounds of it, so that at least confirmed that neither Onslaught or Swindle had left the room. Which was good, by the saimese's account. Their sire needed the attention and company of his family just as much as he believed he needed a good, stiff drink.

The kittycon was on his way out of the kitchen, when the phone began to ring. Stopping, he stared at the device for a couple astroseconds, before he stepped forward, catching it on the second ring. Pressing the receiver to his ear, Blast Off watched as the comm screen flashed to life, yet remained resolutely black. A sign that could mean a number of things, but usually didn't translate into anything good.

"Hello," he started coolly.

The other end was silent for a klik, before he heard the other 'bot cycle a quick intake. "H-hello...?," the vocalizer returned softly. Anxious, young, fearful... a mech, of unknown race and size, though probably small judging by his tone. Not a client then.

So why would he be calling?

If the stranger was waiting for Blast Off to say something, then he was waiting in vain. As if coming to this conclusion, the other mech swallowed sharply; there was the sound of shuffling, no doubt the receiver being shifted and gripped tighter on the other end. "I-is... D-does Onslaught live here?"

The siamese's ear gave a twitch. "State your business," he answered.

The unknown caller vented quickly. "I-i, umm...," he tried to say, but gave up with half a whimper, taking a klik to gather his courage again. "P-please," he continued, softer and weaker than before, "P-please, m-may I speak to h-him? I-it's important."

He should hang up. Blast Off stared at the comm base, his finger held over the switchhook patiently. He didn't know who this mech was, or why he might be calling, but Onslaught was nowhere near stable enough to be dealing with someone else's problems. He was barely even sober. The kittycon stood there, finger poised, ready to hang up... but he never did. After a klik, the saimese shifted his grip on the receiver, reaching over and switching it to wireless mode. "Very well," he told the stranger. "One moment."

When he walked into the living room, everyone turned to stare at him, except for Onslaught, who continued to glare at the floor, a cup of black oil grasped tightly in his left servo. He glared at his son when he stopped in front of his armchair, casting the phone a confused look before swiping it out of Blast Off's servo and pressing it to his ear.

"Hello?," he grumbled, sinking sullenly into his seat.

The serval lurched upwards in his chair not an astrosecond after, knocking his oil to the floor. "S-skydive?!," he gaped, to both the shock and confusion of his present children. Onslaught didn't even pay them any attention.

"Tell me where you are," he commanded firmly into the phone, "I'll come get you." The barest whisper of an answer could be heard from the other end. Nodding quickly, Onslaught said farewell, before ending the call and practically jumping to his pedes. He didn't bother to answer any of his sons' quizzical looks as he hurried to the door; grabbing both his coat and his car keys.

Blast Off watched as his sire disappeared through the slamming door, feeling that strange sensation of apprehension in the pit of his fuel tanks.

**Title: Reunion**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: Skydive waits**

He felt grungy. Dirty, tired, overwhelmed, frightened... Skydive was a number of things, but mostly, he just felt gritty. It had been at least a good week of traveling for him. He didn't have a change of clothes with him, and the only cleaning he could manage was whatever quick one he could get away with in public washrooms. Overall, he felt disgusting and he hated it even more that Onslaught was going to see him like this.

Oh, Onslaught...

The autodog whimpered, feeling anxiety creep back up on him, churning his fuel tanks dangerously. Why did he think he could do this? What in all of the universe had compelled him into believing that he could come all the way out to Iacon, squat in some sketchier part of the city and wait patiently for Onslaught to come and get him? Honestly... He had to be fragging out of his processor! Skydive shook his helm, hugging his knees tighter and hunching further on the curb. He realized now that he had been impulsive in his actions; this wasn't the right time or place to even be getting back in contact with the kittycon. The older mech must have found out that he'd run away by now... Primus, he probably thought the shih tzu such a floozy after so long.

And now he was expecting to spring the news on Onslaught that he was carrying?

Primus, he was insane...

Headlights cut across the road, shining brightly in the darkening street. Snapping his helm upwards, Skydive watched wide-opticed, his spark pulsing erratically as a familiar car pulled up in front of him. He shakily rose up to his pedes as the driver's door opened, staring up at the silent kittycon stepping out and looking back at him with dim optics.

"O-onsl-," the autodog started, but was cut off as Onslaught walked forward, scooping him up and into his arms suddenly. Tears collected in his optics as the shih tzu clung to the bigger mech, burying his face further into Onslaught's chestplates and trying to hold back his whimpers. He hadn't thought seeing the serval again would cause his spark this much pain and joy.

For a klik, the kittycon merely held him, before Onslaught slowly pulled back, barely meeting Skydive's optics as he looked down on the smaller mech. "C'mon...," he hoarsely whispered, gently turning them to the car. "Let's get you cleaned up..."

Skydive allowed himself to be led to the passenger seat; buckling in and clenching his servos tightly in his lap as anxiety rose within him again.

**Title: Hope**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: He prays that things will mend**

The hot water felt good flowing down his frame, getting into all the seams and joints, and slowly easing the tension and dirt out of them. Helm turned up to the spray, Skydive simply stood there, enjoying the warmth, before he slowly set to cleaning himself. All the while, his thoughts buzzed like a nest of angry hornets in his helm, keeping him far from distracted.

He was going to have to talk to Onslaught.

Right now, the kittycon sat in the motel's berthroom, waiting patiently for the autodog to finish. It was obvious that the larger mech was upset when he had come to collect Skydive, but whether that was because of his running away or the distressful state he had been found in, the shih tzu couldn't be entirely sure. All he knew though, was that the moment he had calmed down some, Onslaught would press him for answers.

Skydive didn't know if he could handle that.

His sudsy fingers slipped down his frame, circling his stomach plating. Recently, the seams had started to stretch and push outwards, until the slightest bump began to show. His sparkling. You have to talk to him, a voice reminded him firmly within his processor, for the sake of this spark growing inside of you. Swallow your fear; don't back down now.

Yes... the shih tzu agreed, venting heavily and turning his face back up to the cascading water. He washed the soap from his frame, feeling better as the layers of dirt and grime rinsed off. He had to talk to Onslaught; that's why he had come back to Iacon in the first place. Because he loved the serval and did not wish to deny this hopeful sparkling the chance at being loved by its sire. Taking a few more moments to stand under the warm spray, becoming braver and more clear of thought as the insecurities washed off, Skydive finally reached forward, turning off the shower and stepping out of the stall.

A fresh set of clothes sat waiting for him on the sorry, little sink counter, and quickly, the blue mech changed into these. Courage fading fast now, Skydive slowly took hold of the doorknob, easing it open and stepping out into the other room. Onslaught sat on the edge of the berth, facing the front door. He glanced quickly over his shoulder plating as he heard the autodog leave the washroom, before looking forward again. "...Are you feeling better now?," the serval asked softly.

"Y-yes...," the shih tzu whispered. He stood where he was, waiting to see if the kittycon would look back at him. But he remained resolutely forward and Skydive felt his spark wither painfully. "O...Onslaught...," he started hesitantly, circling the room and coming up to the other mech's side. "I... I'm sorry, I-i..."

"You left..." The serval looked up to his right, staring into the blue 'bot's face. "Your place was cleared out."

Skydive sank to the floor beside Onslaught, grabbing his servo and grasping it anxiously between his own. "I know, I-i...," he choked, trying to get the words out, but couldn't. Eventually, he had to press the serval's palm to his cheekplate to find even a percentage of his strength. "I n-never wanted to... I c-couldn't... I had to leave. I-i didn't want to th-though. If I h-had a choice, I would h-have stayed."

The green mech looked down on the shih tzu disbelievingly, before he turned his helm away. "So you decided to come back?," Onslaught asked, his tone almost accusing. His servo felt limp and dead against Skydive's cheekplate.

Skydive tried not to cry as he rose quickly to his pedes. "Yes, I came back. I had to- despite all the troubles it might cause," the shih tzu explained. The kittycon glanced up again, ears flattening in surprise as the autodog grasped his servo again, pushing it under his shirt and to his stomach plating. Smiling nervously, he looked deep into Onslaught's optics, ignoring the coolant that glazed his own optics heavily.

"D-do you feel it?," he gently asked. "T-this is why I had to come back... even though I know you will never trust me again." Skydive trailed off for a moment, losing his courage finally and stepping back from the shell-shocked serval. "I... I-i couldn't...," he began, whimpering, "...w-we... when we were younger, we were abandoned. I-i, I never told you be-because... because so many people look down on us orphans. B-but... but shortly after Fireflight was born, our parents seemed... tired of us."

"They took us to the highway. D-drove to the woods, took us out a-and..." Skydive bowed his helm as he felt the tears slowly slide down his face. "T-they left us there. W-we... we watched them drive away, wondering if they'd ever come back. But th-they never did. T-they never came back."

"S-so," the autodog swallowed sharply, lifting his helm again, wiping quickly at his optics, "I d-decided when I w-was younger, th-that I would n-never abandon a child i-if my l-life took such a turn. A-and t-that's why I h-had to come back, y-you see... I h-had to take t-this chance, to know t-that this sparkling m-might have the opportunity o-of a happy life a-and never t-to feel as if they've b-been unwanted. I-if you h-hate me b-because of this, I-"

Onslaught jumped to his pedes, grabbing Skydive and pulling him tight to his frame. Before the shih tzu could even squeak in alarm, the green mech's lip components were slamming against his own and pressing down with bruising force. Clutching desperately onto Onslaught's shoulders, Skydive felt himself almost bent backwards as the kiss lasted; finally softening and easing into a warm, passionate touch as the serval cupped the autodog closer, petting and stroking him tenderly. "Primus...," the bigger mech mumbled against his mouth, pushing back in frequently to continue their lip-lock. "Primus Skydive... unbelievable... a blessing..."

Skydive returned each of the kisses whole-heartedly, only glad to know that he wasn't being tossed aside with skepticism and disgust. He couldn't help but to cry harder as he felt the kittycon slip a servo back under his shirt, the large fingers curling hotly against his growing belly. Whispering soft things against his ear, Onslaught led them back to the berth, slowly lowering the shih tzu onto it and leaning over him.

"When I discovered, I-i..." Onslaught hesitantly began, looking down on Skydive with such a torn expression. "P-primus... I thought maybe i-it was my fault; something I did..."

"But... but you came back," he vented gently, leaning closer to the autodog; landing soft, quick butterfly kisses on his damp cheekplates, before slowly sliding down. "You... you really came back..."

Skydive trembled slightly as Onslaught kissed his way down the thin neck, mouthing his cockpit beneath his shirt, stirring both joy and desire within him. He could not keep in the small whimper as the kittycon kissed his stomach last, before laying his helm gently on the plating and nuzzling. "Primus, d-did you ever return... and with a gift..." Onslaught sighed, maneuvering his arms so that they slightly circled Skydive's waist, another heavy intake escaping him as he felt those delicate fingers start to stroke at his helm.

Taking a moment to enjoy the petting a little longer, the serval eventually climbed back up to the top of the berth, resting on an elbow as he spooned Skydive closer to him; nudging olfactory sensors gently with the autodog. "O-onslaught...," the blue mech choked, kissing the kittycon's mouth quickly, "I-i'm sorry I l-left, I really a-am. B-but I... I don't want to l-leave again. I c-couldn't... I couldn't s-stand never seeing you again."

"Ssh...," Onslaught replied, his optics dimming as he kissed Skydive's brow. "You're not leaving, and neither am I. Not tonight. We're just going to stay here- you and I. In the morning, we can... we can discuss things further. I have a little surprise for you as well."

Confused optics looked up at him but the kittycon waved off any of the impending questions, lying back on the berth, helm rested comfortably on a pillow and an arm held out to receive Skydive. Hesitating only for a moment, the shih tzu succumbed to the tempting offer; curling up at Onslaught's side, helm resting on the chestplates and the green mech's servo cupping his middle warmly.

This... this was peace.

Slowly, Skydive allowed his optics to shutter close, letting go of all his fears and doubts, reveling in the moment of being with the mech he loved most and saving all his troubles and concerns for tomorrow morning.

**Title: Shatter**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: The dream comes to a close**

"A-are... are you sure this would be the best time?," he asked, staring at his servo; thumb playing with the silver band on his finger. "I m-mean, I know you said they're already a-all there, but... it s-still seems kinda s-sudden and..."

Skydive trailed off, uncertain of how else to phrase his concern, other than to simple say 'I'm afraid of meeting your children because they're older than me and not likely to take kindly to me being pregnant on top of everything.'

Onslaught merely glanced away from the road, reaching over and taking the autodog's servo, giving it a quick kiss before returning his focus back to driving. "It's sudden, I'll agree, but I still do want you to meet them all before we make anymore plans," the serval replied. "It's unlikely that I'll be able to get any of them to come visit me anytime soon after they leave again, and I rather not have some sort of spectacular fit when they find out they have both a new mother and sibling."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, the shih tzu couldn't help but to smile slightly at the older mech's statement, reaching over and touching his arm lightly. When dusky blue optics met his again, Skydive smiled brighter, cupping his left servo to his chestplates and thumbing the ring on his finger. "I'm glad I said yes," he shared with the serval. "There's no one else I would say those two words to."

The purr that followed made the autodog smile all the more.

"I'm glad to hear that," Onslaught said, smiling as he faced the road a second time. "Soon, it'll be official as well. I, u-umm, hope you don't mind if we forgo the usual ceremony..."

"Not at all," Skydive answered, watching with some anxiety as they pulled up the kittycon's driveway. "It doesn't need to be a big, huge ball to make it any more special." He sat, waiting, while Onslaught parked and then blushed as the serval opened his door from the outside for him. Leaning into the bigger mech's side contently, the pair walked up to the house, pausing at the door while Onslaught fished out his keys.

"I-i'll," he started in embarrassment, refraining from scratching at his cheekplate, "I'll have you sit in the living room, while I gather them up. T-then... then we can break the news together."

"O-okay," the blue mech stuttered back in response, shyly stepping into the house as the door was opened for him. He smiled up at Onslaught as the kittycon set a servo on his lower backstruts, guiding him to the living room and nodding for him to make himself comfortable. Left alone so the serval could find his children, Skydive stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, clutching an arm nervously and studying his surroundings.

It had been a while since he'd last been in any room of Onslaught's house.

Turning to the bookshelves to occupy himself, the autodog was surprised to find something orange and copper stuffed in between a couple thick tomes. Mouth pulled down in an uncertain frown, Skydive reached into the tiny space, wriggling the item loose. It gave after a klik, jumping out with a pop and bouncing against his front. Catching it quickly, Skydive stared in confusion at the turbo fox plushie now resting in his servos. This was Fireflight's doll, he was sure of it!

"Who exactly are you?," demanded a snide vocalizer.

Jumping in fright, the shih tzu turned around, clutching the doll to his chestplates as he faced the unknown kittycon. Slightly taller than him, with tan plating and hypnotizing purple optics, the devon rex leaned against the door frame; arms crossed over his chestplates and a sneer on his face. "So, what are you supposed to be?," the stranger asked cruelly, "The 'party favor'?"

"I-i..."

"Silence, Swindle," a brown mech commanded coldly, turning the corner and strutting into the living room smoothly. The siamese was taller than Skydive by at least several feet; he was possibly taller than Onslaught, he might dare say. Grey optics fell on him then, and the autodog tried his best not to flinch when the cold gaze ran over him quickly. "You must be the one then," he said, stepping forward quickly and grabbing Skydive's servo.

The shih tzu swallowed back his squeak of fright as his servo was lifted up for scrutiny, his engagement ring catching the light.

"I see...," the aloof kittycon mumbled, "I had sensed that something was about."

"What?," Swindle gaped, stomping forward quickly and glaring at the ring. "What the slag are you getting at, Blast Off? Don't fragging tell me that dad's been upset because he's been fragging this mutt. And the ring? What, now he's going to actually BOND with this little sparkling while he's at it?!"

Skydive tugged his servo free from Blast Off's grip, turning his helm to the floor in shame. "I-i, I apologize, I d-didn't-"

"Oh, please," the tan mech cut him off, "Quit your whining. If you're going to frag someone, don't be such a fragging pansy about it and try to kiss everyone's aft afterwards. Slag... and to think dad wants some stupid pup like you."

"Hold your tongue," Blast Off said lowly, and Skydive wasn't sure if the oldest kittycon was talking to him or Swindle. "Our sire will be along shortly; if he has brought this one home now, then he obviously-"

There was the sound of the kitchen door slamming and then skipping pedes made their way to the living room. "What's going on?," a slimy vocalizer cooed, making even Swindle flinch with its sound. Skydive watched uncertainly as yet another mech turned the corner. He stared as this kittycon slunk forward, red visor glowing and evil grin stretched wide across his face, feeling anxiety fill his fuel tanks. "We having an orgy?"

Two sets of hisses reached his ears, even as the autodog felt his plating crawl at the disgusting comment. This mech was really one of Onslaught's sons? The lynx stepped closer and Skydive quickly took several steps back, clutching the plushie tightly in his servos. The doll gave half a squeak, which suddenly drew the grey mech's attention. Gaze lowering, a displeased scowl pulled at the kittycon's lip components.

"Wait a klik," he mumbled lowly, "That looks like Firefli-"

"Vortex," Blast Off cut in sharply, grabbing his brother and pulling him back just as the lynx raised a servo for Skydive, "Back off."

"Ordering me around, Blast Off? I thought we'd discussed previously that this wasn't a very wise idea. Do we need to-"

The rest of the kittycon's words were lost to him. Staring transfixed at the back of the mech's helm, Skydive felt his intakes start to cycle faster, horrified realization dawning on him and clawing tightly around his spark. There couldn't be... not that many 'bots with the same name... certainly not that many who would have known about the plushie or would specifically say his baby brother's name...

Slowly, the plushie slipped from the shih tzu's lax grip, falling to the floor at his pedes unnoticed.

"Boys," Onslaught's voice cut through the tense atmosphere dangerously as he entered the room, one servo resting on Brawl's shoulder plating as he led the both of them into the area, "I'm glad that you've all gathered yourself nicely here but we have guests now, so if you don't behave, I'll... S-skydive?"

All optics turned to him then and the autodog realized at that moment that he was crying. Trying to pretend that he didn't feel the coolant swamping his vision, Skydive tried to swallow, shakily saying, "On... Onslaught? M-may I talk t-to you...? P-privately, please?"

The eldest kittycon glanced at all of his sons quickly, as if blaming them, before holding his servo out for Skydive to take. "Of course. Let's go to my office," he suggested. The shih tzu nodded quickly before hurrying out of the living room, ignoring the offered servo and Onslaught both. Stunned, the serval stood in place for a few astroseconds, before he gave the others a warning look and turned to join Skydive.

They were barely in the room, before Skydive started to shake badly.

"Skydive... Skydive, speak to me," the green mech softly pleaded, closing the door and coming up behind the younger 'bot. He tried to hug Skydive, but the shih tzu tore away immediately, hugging himself tighter and refusing to meet Onslaught's gaze.

"Listen, if it's something I did -if I'm taking things too fast for you, I can-"

"I-it...," came the small whimper, "I-it's not you..."

Onslaught fell silent for an astrosecond, trying to think through the confusion and worry quickly filling his processor. He was unable to even voice his concerns before Skydive was finally turning to him, clenched fist held out to the kittycon.

Dread crackled across every fibre of the serval's circuitry, but he held out his own servo anyways, palm open to receive what the shih tzu had to give him.

"D-don't you remember... I, I said I had to leave," Skydive mumbled, tears still cascading down his cheekplates. There was nothing but infinite sorrow within those gorgeous blue optics and Onslaught wasn't sure for how long he could stare into them. "I n-never told you the reason I h-had to go... Why i-it was so sudden..."

"E-even now, I h-hadn't known, I w-wouldn't... I still can't do this," the autodog choked out, shaking his helm violently. "I can't marry you knowing that your son was the one who hurt my baby brother! I just can't!"

The kittycon watched as that little servo opened up slowly, dropping the engagement ring into his open palm.

"F-fireflight... he's only _twelve_ , Onslaught," Skydive hissed painfully. Clenching his denta tightly, the shih tzu shoved past the immobile serval, running out the house with tears streaming down his face and his spark tearing into a thousand, different agonizing shreds.

**Title: Break**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: In the end, some bonds are bound to be broken**

"Daddy... where's the new 'bot gone?" Brawl looked up from his toys as Onslaught slowly shuffled into the room quietly, drawing everyone's attention. "Is he going to come back and play? I really want him to come back and-"

Swindle slowly moved, covering Brawl's mouth with his servo. The very air crackled with doom as the older kittycon turned and stared at each of them individually, his normally blue optics a deep indigo in his rage.

"So, what? The youngling decide he didn't like ol' grampa spikes after all?"

All time seemed to stop as the comment left the lynx's mouth. Lip components twisting in a snarl, Onslaught turned his attention slowly to Vortex. The grey mech leaned casually on the couch, playing with the turbo fox plushie, seemingly unaware of the danger looming over all of their helms. Visor flashing suddenly, Vortex snapped his fingers, sitting upright with glee. "Ah! I knew I remembered seeing that lil' nerd from somewhere! He's Fireflight's-"

The roar of rage that escaped Onslaught then shook the entire house to its lowest foundations. Both Blast Off and Brawl immediately spun from the path of danger, the younger serval grabbing Swindle and covering him with his frame like a protective shell, as their sire lunged across the room, grabbing hold of the unsuspecting lynx. Vortex gave a snarl of anger, trying to twist in Onslaught's hold, but the older kittycon merely slammed him into the wall before promptly tossing him to the floor.

The couch was kicked over as the grey mech tried to escape again, but was yanked back harshly by his ears, his face rushing straight toward the fist flying at him. Flattening themselves against the living room walls as best they could, the other three mechs watched (or, in Blast Off's case, who had shuttered his optics quickly) and listened as their sire viciously tore into Vortex; not letting up on the lynx until something cracked sickeningly and energon poured richly down both Vortex's face and frame.

Grabbing his battered son by the throat, Onslaught lifted Vortex into the air, spitting into his shattered visor. "You...," he snarled, "Have ruined my life for the last time, ingrate. You can go be someone else's problem; you are no longer my son."

Seething with silent and deadly rage still, the serval marched to the door, slamming it open and throwing the lynx down the lawn. He watched as the grey kittycon rolled limply across the grass, smearing fresh energon everywhere, before he stepped back and shut the door violently on the image of his pathetic child.

Venting heavily, Onslaught turned away from the door with a growl, stomping back towards the living room. Already, Blast Off had straightened up the furniture and had grabbed a broom to sweep up the broken bits of plaster and glass that had resulted in the vicious fight. Brawl sat meekly in the corner, whispering to his toys and casting uncertain glances to their sire, while Swindle was grabbing his suitcase.

"Not so fast," the serval gruffed to the devon rex, watching testily as the younger mech turned to face him.

"Y-yes, dad?," Swindle hesitantly asked.

He decided not to comment on the note of fear in his son's vocalizer. "I need you to use your connections. Skydive went off the radar last time; I will not let that happen again," he vowed, staring the tan mech down; daring him to disobey. "I have to take responsibility for what that worthless scum that called itself your brother did. Find Skydive's location, where his family is, then contact me."

"Yes, sir," came the mechanical response.

"Brawl," Onslaught said next, turning to his second oldest. The other serval stared wide-opticed up at his sire. "Go play in your room, please..."

Brawl nodded quickly, gathered his toys and stomped loudly from the room.

"Blast Off..."

The siamese quickly raised his servo, interrupting his sire before he could finish what he was going to say. Ignoring the snarl directed at him, the brown kittycon calmly replied, "I shall tidy up and watch over your affairs until you have returned. But I shall forewarn you of this: after you find this Skydive, I am no longer assisting you. I will be moving out."

Onslaught stared, stunned, at his oldest, before he vented gruffly, frowning. "Very well...," he muttered, "So be it."

Turning, the green mech headed for the kitchen, no doubt to wash the energon from his servos and to drown out his thoughts once again with poison.


	22. Soundwave and Tracks III

**Pairing: Soundwave and Tracks  
Rating: M**

"I don't want a babysitter..."

Soundwave suppressed the sigh that rose, turning to the whine. Surprisingly, it did not come from his sons but his bondmate. Tracks was dressed up in his finest; his fur sleek and shimmery, and various jewels glittering about his frame, all for a night out on the town. At first the autodog had been excited -it wasn't often that him and the kittycon had gone out lately, and he believed that they would be bringing their sparklings along as well. An even rarer occasion so late in the orn. But his mood had immediately plummeted once Soundwave had dutifully informed him that 'no, we aren't taking the kids' and followed up by telling Tracks that he had called for a babysitter to come watch the twins.

"No, I refuse to go," Tracks pouted further, crossing his arms over his chassis. The persian could have kissed those luscious lip components... if not for the fact that such an action would only make the pomeranian angrier at him.

"Why can't we just take them with us?," the autodog demanded. "We're going for a dinner and a movie... how would their presence be a hinder?"

"Destination: incorrect. We are going for a stage performance and then to a five-star restaurant," Soundwave replied.

Tracks only huffed, cocking his hip angrily. Oh, Primus... the pomeranian's mood was only getting worse. If Soundwave didn't do something quick to fix things, he could be sure that his bondmate would storm off in a fit; locking himself up in Rumble and Frenzy's berthroom and refuse to come out.

"Concern: You are afraid to leave our sons with strangers. Report: I have found babysitters willing, capable and familiar to watch Rumble and Frenzy," the persian informed.

The autodog flinched at having his fears addressed, but only narrowed his optics more, glaring heatedly at the other mech. "Oh really...?," he asked snidely. Soundwave opened his mouth again to reply to his bondmate's sarcasm, when the doorbell chimed. Tracks' optics grew exceptionally large in alarm, but the kittycon paid that no mind; turning to the door and opening it for their guests.

"Evening of the good," two voices chirped back.

"T-them?!," the pomeranian choked.

Jetfire and Jetstorm cocked their helms curiously, looking from the kittycon to the autodog, wondering what the two were talking about. "Affirmative," Soundwave replied. He paused to wave the younglings inside. "Report: they had the best availability and were certified by Ratchet for their medical capabilities. Inquiry: You are familiar with Ratchet, yes?"

"Y-yes...," Tracks answered sullenly. He knew Ratchet fairly well. The vet performed the more "extreme" procedures for the mechs and femmes back when he had been in the escort business. As it was, the labrador had been the pomeranian's official consultant during his pregnancy, and had actually been the head vet during the twins' birth as well.

To say that Tracks was familiar with the other autodog would be an understatement...

And now before the pomeranian stood the old 'bot's young bondmates. "Not worry being," the orange hybrid was saying. "Taking good care of lil' sparklings us are."

"Wish I am having Ratchet's sparkling," the blue youngling sighed dreamily, cupping his cheekplates as he blushed. Jetfire elbowed his brother when he noticed that both of the older mechs were looking at them oddly.

"Sorries making," Jetfire apologized, bowing. "Brother getting away carried. But love of sparkling is he, same am I. Bestest of care taking we for Rumble and Frenzy." Jetstorm mimicked his twin's bowing, flushing with embarrassment the entire way.

"Y-yes!," he agreed. "Taking care for 's beautiful sparklings."

Hearing this, Soundwave turned to Tracks, watching the autodog warily. Seeing that he was being studied -not by one, but three sets of optics now- the pomeranian sighed, letting his arms drop to his sides. "Fine...," he bit out. "But we're leaving now!"

And without further ado, the multi-coloured mech stomped out the front door and to the limo in the driveway. Jetstorm and Jetfire looked about perplexed, before the kittycon rested a servo on each of their shoulders. "Suggestion: Don't worry about his actions. Tracks will be fine. Estimation: should return before two in the morning. Feel free to have a snack in the kitchen."

Pleased that he had properly informed the hybrids now, Soundwave bid them goodnight and exited out the door as well.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"My dear, you are truly beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Of course someone has! I did, not but a klik ago!"

"Boys, boys," Tracks chuckled, looking at each of the mechs circled about him. "There is no need to squabble. Your praises are sweet, and I would hate to corrupt such a lovely a glossa to vulgar, hateful words. Especially not over one as myself."

"You should not belittle yourself so," a young autodog bashfully spoke up. His cheekplates were stained purple with his blush, but he kept his optics level with the pomeranian's. "You are certainly more than worthy of all our compliments, and yet you're even so modest as to deny it."

Tracks smiled at the youth. If he had been perhaps a little younger himself, and not content with his life as it was, he might have easily swooned at the touching serenity in the pup's vocalizer. "You do me much honor, darling," the multi-coloured mech replied, leaning forward slightly in his seat. He patted the younger 'bot's cheekplate tenderly and had to hide his smirk while the other mechs gathered stiffened in jealousy.

Pulling back and reclining easily in his seat once more, the pomeranian looked to the other 'bots still hovering about his chair. "Don't you mechs wish to go and revel with the other party-goers? Sitting here, I am surely not much fun, and I wouldn't wish for you to miss out on the festivities."

The mechs were quick to vocalize their protest. "We don't mind!," one kittycon declared.

"Indeed not," spouted another. "None have provided such wonderful conversation yet this evening."

"Besides," husked a bold autodog, "We would not want you to be all alone."

Tracks smiled, raising a hand to his lip components delicately. "Oh, but I'm not alone, my dears," he assured them. "I'm here with my bondmate."

Stunned silence. Then, "Such an atrocity that he would not be here by your side at this moment. What if harm happened to befall you? Does he not care?"

The multi-coloured autodog turned to the brazen speaker, his smile growing a little wider. "Not so. He knows I can take care of myself." Tracks glanced away for a nanoklik, his optics flaring brightly. "And there he is now! Thank you boys, it has been most enjoyable but I'm afraid that I must be leaving. Please, enjoy the rest of the party."

And to their dismay, the pomeranian rose to his pedes and hurried across the room, eventually looping arms with Soundwave -the very host of the business party they were attending. Grudgingly, they all sipped at their drinks, watching the pair meander into the rest of the crowd.

"I suppose the cub is worth listening to...," a grouchy old 'bot grumbled in response to Soundwave's interruption.

"Certainly," replied a younger mech, "Especially if he has swayed such a handsome creature into being his bondmate."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Opinion: You are good for business."

Tracks lifted his helm, turning to stare at his bondmate. Not too far away from him, Rumble and Frenzy splashed about in the kiddy pool the maid had so kindly set up. "Whatever do you mean?," the autodog inquired, resting his book on his lap.

Soundwave did not fail to notice that it was The Art of War that the pomeranian was reading. "Report: Mechs and femmes more negotiable in your presence. Business has increased sixty-five percent since you have started accompanying me for social gatherings."

"So basically I look good on your arm," Tracks deadpanned. With a sniff, the autodog turned back to his book. "Glad to know I'm so very useful."

Slag, he had upset the mech. The kittycon leaned forward, fingers stroking behind his bondmate's ears. "Affirmative," Soundwave replied. "Notice: have seen the several changes you made on my papers."

The pomeranian stiffened at that. "I-i didn't-"

"Apology: unnecessary," the persian assured, turning Tracks' helm so that their optics would meet. Engines rumbling lowly, Soundwave removed his mouth guard, kissing the shocked autodog. "Corrections: have increased work proficiency. You are smart, as well as beautiful, strong and courageous; more than worthy of a mech. Inquiry: Would you like to help me with some of my files in the future?"

The dazed look retreated from Tracks' optics at the question, though his cheekplates continued to lighten with his blush. "Y-you really want me to help?," he asked, suddenly shy.

"Positive," the kittycon answered. It was hard to keep the rumbles down now, especially with that adorably, nervous expression on the other's face.

Slowly, a smirk came to Tracks' lip components, and he turned fully in his lawn chair to face the blue mech. "I'd love to," he husked, winding his arms around Soundwave's neck and pulling the persian down for another kiss.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

For a time, Soundwave and Tracks were worried that their sons did not have any particular skill. The kittycon himself was exceptionally good at business, showing an aptitude for electronic frequencies that none had been able to match as of to date. The pomeranian had a hidden ability to read the incomprehensible fall and rise of economics, predicting trends before anybody else even had a hint of the things to come. It would be an understatement then to say that either mech was smart and more than capable of navigating through the working world.

Rumble and Frenzy in comparison seemed... inadequate to their parents. The twins' grades were average, standing at a consistent seventy-eight grade percentage, and their mannerisms... mediocre at best. The sparklings enjoyed pranks more than anything else and weren't afraid to include their family in their mischief. They didn't seem to hold any interest for school, or reading, or even the arts, and Soundwave and Tracks were a little anxious that their sons would remain uncaring about everything except their next practical joke.

It was with surprise that a regular shopping trip led to the discovery of Rumble and Frenzy's own natural talent. Tracks turned around to check on his sons, only to find that they had slipped off again. With a huff, he started to search for them, pausing when he heard music coming from the nearest instrument shop. Walking inside, the pomeranian had stopped in mere shock, servos to his chestplates as he looked upon his two sparklings. Rumble was stroking at the strings of a guitar, plucking a pede-tapping riff, while Frenzy supplied a rousing melody from a saxophone. Already, the twins had gathered a crowd from their amazing playing, and when the performance was over, the watchers erupted into applause.

"Amazing, isn't it?," a femme beside Tracks piped up. "I wonder how long they've been playing for."

"Never," the autodog mumbled back dazedly. "They've never touched an instrument in their life..." Leaving the femme there to shutter her optics in disbelief, Tracks hurried forward, kneeling before the little kittycons.

"Oh, hey mommy," Frenzy greeted smoothly. "Sorry to run off again."

"Never mind that," the pomeranian said, waving off the apology. "I never -I mean... that was... Would you boys like to take music lessons?," Tracks finally managed to ask, looking at them seriously.

The twins seemed slightly taken aback by their creator's astonishment, but shrugged, smiling. "Yeah, sure," they answered together.

"That mean we can take these home then?," Rumble added, lifting the electric guitar in his servos.

Tracks chuckled lightly, leaning forward and pecking each of his sons atop of their helms. He ignored their embarrassed whines. "Yes, loves," he replied. "You can take them home."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Soundwave hated when other 'bots had their hungry optics on his bondmate. It made him furious to know that they were looking at the autodog like that, no doubt their processors filled with inappropriate thoughts. Sometimes, it was hard to refrain from growling, marching over -denta gnashing, and visor glowing devilishly red- to rip and maim every single mech and femme that got too familiar with Tracks. But control himself the persian did, for he knew that the pomeranian would not appreciate his actions; good intentions or not.

The kittycon did not want to think of himself as a jealous creature, but indeed he was when it came to Tracks...

He supposed his only comfort was the fact that every time he came into view, Tracks immediately perked up; quickly rising to his pedes and rushing to his bondmate's side, nothing but love and desire in his optics for the blue mech.

...though it was also greatly amusing to see all of Tracks' pursuers drop back and scowl enviously, upon the sight of the autodog happy in Soundwave's arms...

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Tracks peeked into the room, a coo coming to his lip components.

His handsome bondmate lay asleep in his office chair, two little sparklings curled on his chassis, secured in the crook of their sire's arms. Quietly, the pomeranian tip-toed into the room, not wanting to disturb the serene silence. He approached Soundwave and the twins, gently reaching down and scooping Frenzy up. The sparkling only squirmed slightly in recharge, settling down again once his helm was pressed to Tracks' chestplates. As he was reaching for the other kittycon, Soundwave woke up.

"Hey, Big Boy," the autodog whispered, leaning forward a little and pressing a kiss to the persian's mouth guard.

The blue mech shifted slightly, changing his grip on Rumble. Looking down first at his son, then again at Tracks, the kittycon said, "Inquiry: What time is it?"

"Late love," Tracks replied. "I was just about to put these two in their bed, and then you."

Soundwave rumbled quietly in response. A joint cracking loudly, the persian slowly rose to his pedes, standing before his bondmate. "Let us go," he whispered, winding a servo about the pomeranian's waist. Tracks smiled at the touch, pressing into the kittycon's side.

"Yes, let us," he replied. Together, the two of them walked out of the room; sparklings dozing peacefully in their parents' arms.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Aaahhhh!"

"No, Ravage! Let the mech go!" Tracks tugged and pulled on the cat's leash, with little success, while his sons laughed behind him. The poor stranger still had his tail clenched tightly between Ravage's teeth, and the animal didn't seem likely to release it anytime soon.

"Stop laughing!," Tracks snapped at Rumble and Frenzy, just as Soundwave was walking up to them. "This is your pet- call the beast off already!"

"Tch," the blue sparkling grumbled. "Fine..."

"Down Ravage," Frenzy ordered monotonously, crossing his arms over his chassis. The cat did so immediately, sitting innocently before the pomeranian's pedes. Casting a scowling glance at the twins, Tracks turned to the other autodog, servos outstretched.

"I'm so very sorry, sir. They meant no ha-"

"D-don't worry about it!," the mech choked, back-pedaling from Tracks quickly. "J-just... I-i-i-i'll be going now!," he squeaked, and nursing his injured tail, the stranger turned about and bolted.

Rumble and Frenzy were laughing again. Angrily, the autodog whirled on the sparklings. "You-!," Tracks hissed. He cut himself off, clenching his servo tightly. "I just can't take you two anywhere without you causing no end of trouble. Fine! So be it! I'm going home."

Huffing, the pomeranian turned away for the third time in the past couple kliks and stormed off. Soundwave shuttered his optics bewilderingly, before glancing down at his sons. "Rumble, Frenzy," he scowled. "Inquiry: what happened?"

"It wasn't like it was our fault, dad," the red sparkling replied, turning to face his sire.

"Yeah," Rumble agreed, patting Ravage's head. The cat had padded over to his side shortly after Tracks had left. "That stupid slagger was giving mom weird looks. We weren't going to allow him to sit there and drool all over our mom."

Soundwave's ears were practically upright with surprise. Slowly, the persian came back to his senses; kneeling until he was level with his sons. "Report: good job," he told them, patting both sparklings on their helms. "Suggestion: Next time, administer more stealth."

"So... you're not mad?," the twins asked incredulously.

"Negative," the older mech answered. "Correction: Will award you both... later. Goal: Go and appease your creator at this moment."

"Okay!," Rumble grinned.

"Cool!," Frenzy smirked. Together, the sparklings turned about and ran off in the direction that Tracks had disappeared. Ravage whined at being left behind, but Soundwave picked up the cat's leash, scratching behind the feline's ears.

"Ravage: calm. We'll walk after them," the persian said. The cat quieted at his master's words, dutifully trotting at his side as they began to follow after the rest of their family.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

" _Mirage?!_ "

The yorkie choked on his tea, quickly lowering his cup and ducking his helm. He prayed that the mech would go away, but the approaching pede-steps informed him that his wishes had been ignored completely. Pretending he didn't see the odd look Hound was giving him from across the table, the blue mech surrendered himself to the inevitable assault. Surprisingly it didn't happen... or at least, not like he had predicted.

"It is _you_ , Mirage," Tracks smirked, slipping into the available chair beside the shorter autodog. The pomeranian leaned in and quickly pecked the ex-noble's cheekplate. "How good to see you again!"

"I'm not sure I can say the same...," Mirage replied drily.

"Oh, you wound me!"

"Uh... Mirage...?," Hound nervously asked, ever the concerned mech. The yorkie blushed, lowering his optics quickly to the table top. How could he possibly explain Tracks' actions to the other autodog? Especially after the beagle had assumed that he was almost completely abstinent?

"So, you must be Hound then?," Tracks said, saving Mirage from answering. He turned to the bigger mech, holding out his servo. "It's nice to finally put a face to a name."

"H-hi...," Hound stuttered, cheekplates flushing in embarrassment. He shook the offered servo. "I-i remember you well. Tracks, r-right?"

"Yes," the pomeranian answered sultrily.

"Tracks," Mirage hissed.

The multi-coloured mech chuckled. "I'm just teasing, love. I would never come between you two. Besides, I've got my own handsome bondmate to take care of me."

"Apologies: Sorry for the interruption."

Both autodogs startled at the additional voice, turning to look at the kittycon standing just behind them. Tracks though was unaffected by Soundwave's silent entrance, and instead propped his elbows on the patio table, resting his chin on his interlocked fingers. "What took you so long, love?," the pomeranian teased.

Soundwave merely raised a wriggling Frenzy, who babbled and gestured for his creator. "Oh, my lil' baby," Tracks cooed, reaching across the table and taking his son from the persian. He held the sparkling to his chestplates, smiling softly as the tiny kittycon calmed instantly, tugging at one of Tracks' fingers gently.

"I-is that...?," Mirage questioned, leaning in anxiously. Tracks glanced up at him kindly, lifting Frenzy a little higher so the yorkie could see him better.

"Yes," the pomeranian answered. "He's my little angel."

"And to think that you were making such a fuss about being sparked...," the blue mech rolled his optics. "And now look at you: the happiest I've ever seen with your one sparkling."

"Correction: two," Soundwave piped up. The shorter autodog turned his attention to the kittycon. "Rumble and Frenzy: twins," the persian elaborated, lifting Rumble into view. The blue sparkling was chewing avidly on his pacifier, looking at the other mechs only partially curious.

"T-twins?," Mirage mumbled breathlessly. Soundwave held out the other twin for him to take, but the yorkie hesitated. Only with a nod and nudge from Tracks did the autodog finally concede, the kittycon gently placing Rumble into his arms.

Mirage practically trembled at the gentle weight, Rumble peering up at him with his large, inquisitive visor. Nervously, he smiled down at the sparkling. "It's a great feeling... isn't it?"

The yorkie glanced up at Tracks. The other autodog was looking back at him, optics radiating quiet understanding behind his glasses. "Y-yes...," the blue mech murmured in agreement. He looked back down to the tiny kittycon in his arms. "You're blessed, Tracks."

"And so are you, Mirage," the pomeranian smiled. "I've never seen a 'bot make you so relaxed as Hound does. He loves you, it's easy to see, and you love him back. It shouldn't be long now before you have sparklings of your own."

The ex-noble lifted his helm, cheekplates burning with his blush. "Y-you think so?," he choked.

Tracks' smile grew wider. "I know so. You have a good life, Mirage, and knowing that puts me at ease. I wouldn't wish the less for my best and dearest friend."

Slowly, a serene smile worked its way onto the yorkie's own lip components. "Thank you Tracks," he said, looking back to the pomeranian's son, "Thank you so very much."

"Status: you are... concerned."

Hound perked at the statement, looking over at the kittycon by his side. Anxiously, he clenched his servos in his lap, turning his attention back to the two autodogs chatting contently before him. "Yes...," he replied after a moment. "I mean, I suppose I shouldn't, but..."

The beagle sighed, refraining from scratching at his ears. "Mirage is so perfect, I feel like... like maybe I forced him into living with me. Like I made him give up everything else 'cause of my own selfishness. I mean, there was a Duke and everything... the other mech was being real serious with Mirage. Seemed like he might of proposed...," Hound mumbled. "And I've thought many times that 'Raj would have been happier with a 'bot like that. Someone who could probably provide him everything, ya know...? But..."

Soundwave looked to the autodog, sympathy in his optics. He understood completely where the green mech was coming from. "Concern: common. Tracks: is amazing. Perhaps even better than I deserve," the persian confessed. "But: I do not fear that I may have stolen life from him. Status: he has never been happier, or so he tells me, then when I asked him to bond with me. And things afterwards have been... normal."

Hound snorted softly. "You're a lucky mech," the beagle replied. "I wish Mirage would feel comfortable enough to open up to me like that. I bet Tracks was quick to do so."

"Negative," Soundwave said. "Correction: Tracks was reluctant much at first. Every 'bot has their firewalls... their fears and doubts... It took awhile for Tracks to open up to me; he needed to trust me completely first. Mirage: possibly the same. Status: Mirage seems content with you though. Suggestion: Do not over think things, and lose chance for both of your happiness."

The autodog blushed, looking at the kittycon incredulously. "Y-you mean... He really looks happy? With me?," Hound choked.

The persian nodded his helm. Hopeful, the beagle turned his attention forward again, smiling softly as he watched Mirage play calmly with Rumble. "My spark just... swells, ya know? Every time I think of the day of us having sparklings of our own. I think, 'Raj would like that as well," the autodog said aloud.

"Sparklings: The greatest joy," Soundwave agreed, fixing his gaze on his bondmate. A smile came to his lip components as well, just beneath his mouth guard.

From there, the two mechs fell silent; content to watch their loved ones interact happily with each other.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Fact: you are dating."

Rumble and Frenzy looked up from their bean bags, staring at their sire looming over them.

"Yeah, so?," the younglings asked nonchalantly. "It was bound to happen eventually," Rumble noted, plucking at his guitar some more. Frenzy hummed his agreement, burying his olfactory sensor back in his sports magazine.

Soundwave only frowned somewhat, crossing his arms over his chassis. Not that he didn't agree with his sons' statement, that was besides the point. "Inquiry: Why didn't you inform your mother and I?"

"Don't see how it's any of your business really," Frenzy mumbled, turning a page.

The older kittycon bristled slightly at the cold disregard for his opinion. "Suggestion: bring your dates home," he said. "Want to meet these 'bots."

"You're _kidding_ , right?," Rumble asked, stopping his strumming. Even his brother pulled the magazine away from his face again.

"Yeah, dad. I mean, bring our dates home? You've got to be malfunctioning or something."

"Insults: uncalled for," the persian scowled. "Inquiry: Why don't you want to bring your dates here?"

"I'll give you one reason," Frenzy grumbled, " _Mom_."

Soundwave raised an optic ridge curiously.

"Dad," Rumble sighed. "Do you seriously think Mom's gonna approve of us dating? Put aside the fact that we're of the age to... do you think that it will really go over that well with him?"

The older mech opened his mouth to reply, but was quickly cut off by his other son. "Seriously, dad, it's not gonna happen. Mom will first freak out and then rage that there's not a 'bot worthy enough of his 'precious sparklings'," Frenzy explained. "Followed by which, he'd go on for hours about how he's absolutely the _smartest, most beautiful_ 'bot around and would make any dates we brought home leave bawling their optics out."

Silence for a klik.

"Argument: valid," Soundwave conceded. "But, I must be informed of your dates."

"Sure thing, dad," the twins replied, returning to their previous activities.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Soundwave hated the office.

As the working parent, it meant that he was not around often to spend time with his family. He did his best, he really did, it's why he had one of the rooms in his home morphed into an office space so he could be home more often than in his company's building. But sometimes, he had no choice but to leave and do business there. Coming home from such a orn, Soundwave just wanted to find his bondmate and sparklings and relax.

"Tracks: I'm home," he called, walking through the door. There was no response, and the persian felt himself frown further. Had the autodog gone out for a walk or another shopping trip? Well, that completely killed his plans for a nice, quiet evening with his family.

Silently, Soundwave removed his coat; hanging it up in the closet and dropping his briefcase onto the entry way table. The kittycon wandered into the living room and was startled when a spray of confetti was thrown up before him. At his bewildered expression, a set of giggling broke out: two young, high-pitched squeals and one medium, rich chuckle. The persian looked down stunned at Tracks and the twins standing -or squatting, in the pomeranian's case- at his pedes.

"Inquiry: What is this?," Soundwave asked, confused beyond belief.

"A surprise," Tracks grinned, lifting both of his sons up. They squirmed in his arms, reaching out for their sire. "It is a special occasion after all."

The kittycon took Rumble and Frenzy willingly, giving himself a moment to kiss them both atop their helms, before turning back to his bondmate. "Occasion? Status: confused."

"You really don't remember what today is?," Tracks shuttered his optics in shock. Soundwave continued to look at him blankly, and the autodog realized that yes, the blue mech did not know what today was. "Well then," the pomeranian smirked, "This will be a very _good_ surprise indeed."

Soundwave wished to ask more about what Tracks was talking about, but by then his bondmate was directing him to the couch. The kittycon obliged the silent demand, seating himself comfortably into the leather sofa. As soon as he was settled, Rumble and Frenzy wriggled wildly in his hold, and Soundwave let them go. Immediately the twins slipped back down to the floor, following Tracks' steps out of the room. Seeing that the persian was beginning to rise again, the autodog paused, holding a servo up in a stop motion.

"No, no, no," the multi-coloured mech tsked. "You just sit right there, Big Boy, and wait until we get back."

Soundwave slowly sat back down.

"Good," Tracks chirped. "Be back in a klik."

True to his word, the pomeranian and his sons returned within a klik, a tray in the older mech's servos and a paper each in the twins' hold. "Dada Happy day!," Rumble shrieked, racing forward with his arms outstretched. Frenzy gasped at his brother's bold action, but did not copy him this time surprisingly. Sullenly, he remained by Tracks' side, grasping a servoful of his creator's pants with his free paw.

Soundwave lifted the blue sparkling as he neared, plopping his son down right next to him. Rumble bounced in his seat, waving his paper about wildly. The persian managed to slow the little kittycon's flailing just enough so he could take the paper without damaging it. To his stunned optics, it was a picture. On the blank sheet was drawn a very sloppy, almost indistinguishable family of four, floating it seemed above a stretch of grass and almost swallowed up by a plague of deadly flowers and drowned out in glitter. Above it was written something unintelligible.

"Dada! Up, dada!," Frenzy demanded, having made it to the couch as well.

The older mech placed the picture delicately on his lap before bending down and lifting his other son onto the couch. The red sparkling purred contently, before thrusting his own picture into Soundwave's face. The persian took it, pulling it back a little so he could focus on the image covering the paper. It was done in a similar style like Rumble's, except this time it was one very prominent 'bot with his arms wrapped around three smaller ones tightly. There was more glitter and a spattering of suns, with the addition of that scribbling across the top.

"Happy father's day," Tracks smiled, putting the tray on the kittycon's lap and placing the presents from the twins out of the way. The pomeranian settled on the couch as well, pulling Frenzy into his lap so he could sidle up closer to Soundwave. "We missed it last year, so I decided to make it up this year."

Leaning in closer, the autodog whispered, "And I've got an _extra special_ present for _daddy_ later tonight."

Engines rumbling, Soundwave turned to his bondmate, removing his mouth guard and kissing the pomeranian. Rumble and Frenzy squealed at the display of affection, clambering for attention as well. The kittycon gladly nuzzled and kissed his sons as well, pulling them all a little closer. "Thank you," he purred. "Action: greatly appreciated."

"Anything for you, love," Tracks replied, nuzzling closer still.

The twins clapped their servos, purring as well. This, Soundwave decided, was the best. Even if he had to work all the time, at least he had these moments to savour. Nobody could take these from him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Trouble-makers that they were, sometimes Rumble and Frenzy didn't start it themselves.

"Hey, aft-heads!," the autodog yelled. "Hey, I'm talking to you!"

The twins came to a stop in the hallway, slowly turning about to face the instigator. They knew this was only going to be trouble, but it had been some time since their last confrontation and it was getting annoying listening to the mutt yip at their tails. Sneering like he had won some sort of victory, the older youngling swaggered up to the kittycons, drawing every other students' attention.

"You'll never guess what I saw in the paper," the autodog said, "Some juicy bit of gossip that has glossae tripping."

"You read that stupid propaganda?," Frenzy asked, lifting an optic ridge incredulously.

"Slag... you're more of an idiot than I thought," Rumble continued. Some snickers broke out, but the other mech quickly silenced them with a glare to the crowd.

"I wouldn't be talking so big if I were you," the older youngling sneered again. "It's not like my creator's over the front page, spread wide like he is. What? You guys don't even have good security at that giant mansion you live in? Or does your mom like to have his naked chassis displayed over every paper in Cybertron?"

Frenzy hissed, denta bared as he took a step toward the autodog. Rumble stopped him by throwing an arm before his brother's chestplates, glaring up at the bully. "I suggest you shut up," the kittycon warned lowly.

"Or you'll _what?_ ," the autodog snapped. "You gonna spread your legs wide open for me as well, huh? Bastard creations of a whore are gonna learn the best from mommy dearest, right? I mean, seriously, who do your parents think they are? They so _fragging old_! Still rutting like that... _Primus_ , it's practically disgusting seeing your glitch of a mother bent over half-double, taking your fragger of a father's spike. Maybe I should come knocking at your door then, hmmm? See if that pretty lil' valve will open up for a real mech's sp-hnng!"

The older youngling hit the floor quickly, Frenzy pulling back his fist. Growling, the kittycon followed up by kicking the autodog in the gut -several times. Hearing the other whimper in pain, the red youngling stopped, spitting on the fallen bully's form for good measure. With all the calmness of a rising storm, Rumble stepped up to the autodog, pausing at the other youngling's helm. "The thought of interfacing with someone like yourself is beyond the mere thought of contemplation. The idea is enough to make 'bots purge," the kittycon said lowly.

He rested his pede on the older youngling's helm, grinding his heel into the plating. He did not relent, even when the autodog gave a sharp cry of pain. "I suggest the next time someone gives you fair warning about something, you heed it," the blue twin hissed, leaning in closer. "As for my mother: only one 'bot could ever satisfy him, and for him to still be interfacing, it means that my father knows just how to please his bondmate. I think it's about time the rest of Cybertron was aware of this, don't you agree?"

A desperate, little keen.

Slowly, Rumble lifted his pede, turning and grabbing Frenzy's arm. "Let's go," he said to his brother. The other kittycon conceded to his twin's tugging, storming away from the curled up autodog. Rumble did not mind that the other youngling stomped off ahead -he was well aware of how much of a momma's mech that Frenzy was, and how much restraint it had taken not to simply offline the older 'bot. Still, it did not account for the autodog's attitude.

The paparazzi slipping past their security and taking a picture of their parents' in their most intimate actions was not something they had planned on, but Unicron be _damned_ if any of the twins would allow anyone to bad-mouth them about it.

Especially about their creator.


	23. Silverbolt II

**Title: Thank You**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: Trailbreaker gets a little surprise**

Work at the mechanic's shop was hard. Not very skilled with the actual mechanics, Trailbreaker worked predominantly as a stock mech- bringing in shipments or lifting heavy metal out back. Today was one of those orns.

"Trailbreaker, you have a guest!," his boss shouted from inside of the shop, yelling over top of the loud cacophony that usually echoed from within the busy garage. Grunting, the karelian finished carrying his load across the backyard, dropping the metal frames on some crates beside the chain link fence. Pulling off his hat and wiping his brow, Trailbreaker turned, squinting against the bright sunlight.

"S-silverbolt?!," he swallowed sharply, fumbling his hat and dropping it in the dirt. Blushing in embarrassment, the autodog quickly bent to grab it, glancing up at the shih tzu who shifted awkwardly on his pedes, looking anywhere but at the dark mech.

"U-umm...," Silverbolt started slowly, fidgeting again, his fingers tightening around the paper bag he held in his grasp. "I-i, um, I d-didn't get to thank you p-properly for the other d-day, and you h-had said before t-that I could find you here if I e-ever wanted t-to t-talk to y-you..."

It felt like his fuel tanks were doing a million different things at once. Stepping closer, Trailbreaker tucked his hat under one arm, smiling at the other autodog anxiously. "Y-yeah? S-something you needed, S-silverbolt?"

The multi-coloured mech looked almost startled by the question. "O-oh... oh no!," he protested quickly, shaking his helm. "I-i, I just -H-here!" The blue visor blinked as the paper bag was thrust towards him. Dazedly, Trailbreaker took the bag.

"I-it's just, um, s-some s-stuff...," Silverbolt explained, biting his bottom lip component shyly and glancing away again. His cheekplates darkened with a blush. "I, I've got to g-get back t-to work now... I hope you l-like it!" Turning on his heel, the shih tzu practically fled from the backyard, leaving the karelian to stand there; confused and just a little hurt by the other's hasty departure.

Looking down at the bag, Trailbreaker slowly opened it up, a bright grin spreading across his face and his tail swirling up a breeze with its wagging. Inside was food- Silverbolt had made him a lunch! "I'm going to take my break now!," he shouted over a shoulder plating to his boss, bouncing for the break room with the thoughtful meal Silverbolt had graciously made him.

**Title: Flowers**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: He decides to get a little gift in return**

"Yes, Trailbreaker? You wanted to see me?" A small, old femme walked out from the back of the shop, wiping her servos on a rag to clean the dirt from them. At her entrance, the autodog turned about slowly, rubbing his arm shyly.

"W-well, umm, I was wondering i-if..." Trailbreaker trailed off, his gaze shifting to the neat rows of flowers planted in the soil. "E-eh, I m-mean, would y-you, um..."

The older autodog's optics lit up excitedly and a knowing smirk came to her lip components. "You want some flowers, dear? Is it for someone special?," she asked, already grabbing some small shears and pushing gently into her rose bushes.

The karelian bear stuttered in embarrassment, turning his face down as his cheekplates grew warm. Laughing teasingly at the mech, the femme wrapped a lovely batch of roses, marigolds and daffodils together before handing it to the waiting autodog. "No, dearie," she said quickly as Trailbreaker reached for his wallet, "These are on the house. You do enough work around town anyhow; you deserve a reward now and then."

"T-thank you!," the mech beamed, his nervous servos taking the bouquet and giving them a quick whiff. "I hope he likes them..."

"Him who?," the other autodog asked, her ears perking in curiosity. Unaware of the wary frown starting to pull at the femme's lip components, Trailbreaker smiled brighter, his tail beginning to wag behind him.

"Silverbolt," he answered with a quiet sigh, "I bet he'd like something as pretty as these."

Overjoyed with the gift he had just gotten for the shih tzu, Trailbreaker turned and walked away jauntily, leaving a stunned femme behind.

**Title: Warning**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: Trailbreaker runs into a little problem**

Air Raid didn't appreciate finding the karelian standing outside their door. "Hey!," he growled out, shifting the bag of groceries in his arms, "What do you think you're doing?!"

The older mech flinched at the aggressive call, turning on the spot and looking down the stairs at the youngling. "I-i'm sorry, I didn't mean any offense," he apologized quickly, moving back as much as the tiny landing would allow him to as the shih tzu ran up the steps. "Honest! I only wanted-"

"That's no excuse for lurking in front of someone's home!," Air Raid snappishly cut in. Trailbreaker took another step back warily as the younger autodog bared his fangs at him, before taking a protective stance in front of the door. "You shouldn't be here! Go! Scat!"

He couldn't understand why the red mech was so angry at him. Trailbreaker opened his mouth to speak to the other autodog and hopefully calm him down but Air Raid only growled further, and the older mech could see that this was going nowhere fast.

"Listen...," he said softly as he inched around the shih tzu and squeezed his way to the staircase, "I really didn't mean to upset ya or anything, and I definitely wasn't snooping. I just... I, well, I-i really wanted to give these to yer brother." The karelian showed the bouquet he had hidden under his arm to Air Raid. "I thought Silverbolt might like something nice to put in yer new home... brighten things up a-and all..."

The youngling's upper lip curled higher with his snarl, switching his bag to one arm and curling his free servo at his side. "Well, you thought wrong!," he spat.

Trying not to let the shih tzu's defensive words get to him, Trailbreaker took one step down the staircase, holding the bouquet higher. "W-would... would ya still be kind enough to give them to him? A-and tell him that they're from T-trailbreaker?"

Air Raid's optics narrowed, flashing quickly. "...Will you leave if I take them?," he questioned slowly, with less anger and violence in his tone than before. At the possibility of finally getting somewhere, the karelian nodded his helm rapidly. Sniffing disdainfully, the red mech reached out and swiped the flowers from the dark autodog's servos; holding them together with his groceries before glaring Trailbreaker down.

Not wanting to break his promise to the youngling, Trailbreaker gave an anxious smile to Air Raid, turning and then walking down the stairs. Air Raid waited until he had walked out of sight, before quickly unlocking the door and bolting into their apartment. He stared at the bouquet blankly for a few moments, before throwing both them and the bag of groceries onto the tiny kitchen table.

**Title: Lie**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: He's doing what he must**

"Air Raid, Slingshot- I'm home!"

Closing the door behind him, Silverbolt shrugged off his coat, hanging it up on the coat stand beside the door before padding toward their kitchen area. "Hello?," he called over his shoulder as he looked at the table, trying not to sigh when he saw that no one had yet put the food away, "Is anyone home?"

"I am," came Air Raid's flat vocalizer. Turning his helm, the older shih tzu shared a weary smile with his brother, before getting to work on putting the groceries away.

"Where's Slingshot?," Silverbolt asked, opening the cupboards.

"I don't know...," the youngling muttered softly. "Hasn't come home yet and they say he skipped last period." Air Raid glanced at the other autodog, watching as his shoulders tensed at the news. "Silverbolt... when's Skydive coming back home? It's been a month already..."

Slowly, the multi-coloured mech turned his helm, refusing to look at the smaller shih tzu. "I...," Silverbolt sighed, "I just don't know, Air Raid."

"What do you mean you don't know?! You should-!"

"Please Air Raid, it's not that simple!" Silverbolt faced the cupboards again, shoving their canned goods in there a little more roughly than needed. He tried his hardest not to cry. "I just c-can't... I mean... Skydive had to go back the long way. He couldn't take the inter-city travel buses and we have no car for him to drive; the trip itself is going to be long enough and then there's still the issue of seeing this mech that he cares for..."

The older autodog decided not to comment when he heard Air Raid grumble something behind him. Turning, Silverbolt looked to see if there was anymore groceries, folding the bag testily before noticing the flowers on the table. "Oh...," he shuttered his optics, uncertain what to say, "Who are these from?"

Air Raid glanced quickly at the bouquet, cursing himself silently for not properly disposing of them earlier. He turned his optics back up to see Silverbolt smiling, sniffing at the daffodils, looking at peace for once. "These from you, Air Raid?," he asked. "They are beautiful."

"Yeah," the red mech lied, "I thought you'd like them."

"Thank you Air Raid, that was really sweet," the older shih tzu said, carefully unwrapping the flowers from their plastic paper. He made sure all the thorns were off before putting them in an empty bottle and filling it with water. "You really shouldn't have. I know you don't make too much credits from your after-school job... but thank you anyways. Would you put these into Fireflight's room? I think he'd like them best."

"Of course," Air Raid replied, taking the make-shift vase and walking towards their younger sibling's room. He paused, looking over a shoulder plating, his optics dim. "He's not doing well, by the way...," the red shih tzu said softly to his oldest brother, "...His belly is so big now..."

Silverbolt looked to the side, avoiding Air Raid's gaze. "I know...," he mumbled remorsefully, "...I know..."

**Title: Crumble**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: Skydive returns home**

"Thank you for walking me home again." Silverbolt glanced at Trailbreaker quickly, before turning his gaze to the ground again. The street was empty except for the two of them; the sun slowly sinking at the horizon behind them. At his words, the country autodog smiled brightly, turning his chin up to the sky as his cheekplates lightened with a blush.

"It's no problem," the karelian answered, "I thought I'd come and see ya for a bit. I'm sorry that I've been so busy lately..."

The shih tzu waved his servos quickly in protest as he faced his companion. "Oh no! Please don't apologize! I know that you work very hard and..." Silverbolt said, lowering his servo and clasping his arm self-consciously, "I... I am just glad that you want to even be seen with me. I know that the others don't want us around..."

He trailed off, avoiding optic-contact with the other autodog. Trailbreaker was sympathetic towards that. He was aware how much the town had grown to dislike and practically distrust the newcomers, and though he wished he could say that everything would work out alright in the end, he couldn't actually promise it to the smaller mech.

That, hurt the most for Trailbreaker, who wanted to do everything in his power to make Silverbolt smile.

The sound of a shaky intake being cycled drew the dark autodog's attention. Lifting his helm, he saw that Silverbolt was now looking up again, but still avoided meeting optics with Trailbreaker. "Listen, Trailbreaker," he started softly, "I think we sh- S-skydive?!"

The shih tzu's optics flared brightly and the karelian slowly glanced over his shoulder plating to see what had caught the other mech's focus. He was equally surprised to see the blue autodog shuffling down the street; clothes travel-worn and dirty, with one servo pressing half against one optic while the other one cupped his noticeable belly. At the sound of his name being called, Skydive looked up, tears flooding his optics and his knee joints trembling as he saw his brother.

"S-silv..."

Silverbolt shoved past Trailbreaker, catching the younger shih tzu before he could collapse and cradling him close as he started to sob loudly.

"H-he," Skydive wailed brokenly, burying his face in his older brother's arms, "H-his fault- w-was... I c-couldn't- I d-didn't-"

Confused and frightened for the other shih tzu's well-being, Trailbreaker cautiously stepped forward, his servos raised uselessly. "Is... is there anything I can do?," he asked anxiously.

Silverbolt pulled his face from where it had been pressed into Skydive's helm, staring at the karelian with dim optics; tears slipping slowly down his cheekplates. "No. There's nothing you can do," he whispered, before half-turning his brother and leading the distraught mech down the street towards their apartment.

Trailbreaker stood there, watching them go, until he could feel his legs again, and then he turned and ambled on home himself.

**Title: Want**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: He shares what happened during his trip**

After bringing him home, and hearing the horrible tale that Skydive had to tell, Silverbolt did the only thing he could at that moment: lock his younger sibling into the room with Fireflight. Wide-opticed and curious, the sparkling stared at the blue mech from where he lay, no doubt having heard some of what had just transpired in the living room. Skydive's thoughts were confirmed when the white shih tzu slowly pushed himself upwards, still gazing unfalteringly at his brother.

"You saw Vortex...?," the little voice whispered hopefully.

The older autodog wanted to scream. He wanted to spit and snarl and just curse that kittycon to the pit and back. Never would he have thought that such a pit-spawn could light Fireflight's optics like that, or cause such misery to their lives. At his silence, the sparkling frowned, little fists curling at his sides for the first time in his life.

"You saw him, didn't you? Why didn't you say anything See-See? Why didn't you tell him where I am!? I want to see him! I want Vortex! I want, want, want-"

"Stop it!," Skydive screamed, leaping to his pedes, uncaring for the moment about the fragile life growing within him. He glared at Fireflight, optics filled with bitter tears and fangs bared in outrage. "Stop calling that bastard's name! Don't you dare, Fireflight! He's a monster; he's a freak! He did things he never should have to you! He's ruined our lives! If anything, you shouldn't be expecting that fragger to come swooping in to your rescue, you should be-"

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!," the white autodog wailed, throwing himself upwards and, in a surprising action for someone so along in his term, lunged at his older sibling. "SHUT UP! You don't know him! You don't know anything!" Fireflight kicked at Skydive, trying to punch his slight protruding belly, but the blue mech grabbed his servos and held him far back as possible. Still, the sparkling yelled and cried, tearing his brother's spark apart even as his own anger grew.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be; this wasn't how their lives were supposed to become.

The door swung open as Silverbolt came rushing in, pulling both of his younger brothers apart with tears fresh in his optics. Resignedly, he took Skydive back out of the room, telling him to sit on the couch and not move an inch, while he went back into the berthroom to try and calm the distraught Fireflight down. Sick with shame, the shih tzu sat, staring at the slightly peeling wallpaper until his rage left him completely, and he collapsed back into silent tears.

**Title: Confrontation**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: Trailbreaker gets a not-so-warm welcome when he gets back home**

"Momma's not happy...," his cousin said as he walked through the door. Confused, Trailbreaker shut the shut door behind him, starting down the hall before he was suddenly intercepted by his aunt. She held a rolling pin in her servo, arms crossed over her chestplates and a scowl fixed flat on her face. The very image of a femme enraged.

"Trailbreaker...," she started coldly.

"Momma Moon," the karelian replied hesitantly.

The dalmation's shoulders stiffened and her optics narrowed further. Seeing that he wasn't about to escape this argument, Trailbreaker lowered his helm contritely, wondering what would upset the usually merry femme.

"Don't you 'momma moon' me!," Moonracer scolded, whipping her rolling pin forward and pointing it at the other autodog, "I thought I raised you better than this Trailbreaker! Did you not take any of my lessons to heart?"

He was beyond perplexed now. "B-but, Aunt Moonracer..."

"Oh!," the femme huffed, propping her servos on her hips, "Now it's 'aunt'? Trailbreaker, I never once complained or moaned about the day when I took you in. My dear sister Lancer, may she rest in peace, meant everything to me and after she died, I promised to give you the life that she was no longer able to... And I was happy. Happy to raise you, to watch you grow, to see you become such a strong and handsome mech..."

The dalmation sighed, her arms hanging loosely by her sides as all the anger left her in that intake. "But this? Trailbreaker, why are you doing this to yourself?"

Trailbreaker shuttered his optics uncertainly, torn between concern and apology. At his blank look, Moonracer huffed again, retaining her former stance. "Those troublesome upstarts! I hear you've been spending time with the oldest of that lot- and getting him flowers?! Trailbreaker, where is your sense? Those new-comers aren't good folk and you shouldn't be associating yourself with them!"

The blue visor flared in alarm and Trailbreaker took a step backwards in simple shock. At the gesture, the femme tightened her look, her lip components turning downwards in a fierce scowl. "Yes; I know. This is a small town, Trailbreaker, everyone here knows everyone else," she said. "Don't you know what it looks like when you talk to that shih tzu? All the rumours... Why Trailbreaker? Why couldn't you just be interested in one of the nice femmes down the block? Even one of the mechs in town would be better than that sinful, city pup!"

"Don't...," the karelian started stiffly. His fists began balling at his sides and his stance grew stronger, until it felt like he was looming over Moonracer. She fell quiet, shuffling back an inch. "Don't talk about Silverbolt like that, please momma Moon," he said softly, "None of you know him, or his family. Neither do I, but I want to. And as long as he allows me to, then I will stay by his side, learning about the mech he is."

The smaller autodog looked up at him stunned, her optics searching his face intensely. He didn't know what she saw, or what she didn't, but after a klik, Moonracer turned her helm down, sighing. "...there's nothing I can say to discourage you, is there?," she asked, looking up again slowly.

Seeing the question as the apology that it was, Trailbreaker smiled, bending a little to be more level with his aunt. "No," he answered, shaking his helm lightly, "Nothing no one could say would."

Again, she sighed. "Very well, Trailbreaker," the femme said. She stood on pede-tip, kissing his brow and cupping his cheekplate tenderly as she looked him straight in the visor. "I pray that you aren't hurt at the end of all of this."

At the concerned words, his smile twisted a little, the only sign to the karelian's own unspoken doubts and fears.

**Title: Scream**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: Slingshot comes home**

Slingshot froze in the doorway, staring at his two older brothers. Both Silverbolt and Skydive froze; one seated on the couch and reaching up for the cup of oil being handed to him. All optics fell to the blue mech's belly, and, self-consciously, Skydive dropped his servos, trying to hide his bulging stomach from Slingshot's judging gaze.

"Slingshot...," Silverbolt started slowly, turning to face the younger shih tzu fully, "...We need to talk..."

"P-please... please, don't get upset..."

The plea was like a trigger to the youngling. "Upset?," he growled, "UPSET?!"

Skydive was forced to roll to the other side of the couch as Slingshot threw his bag across the room, aiming for him. "Why are you like that? Why is your belly big too!? I thought you were only pretending- I thought you were alright!," Slingshot screamed, grabbing more things and hurling them at his brothers.

Silverbolt quickly took up position before Skydive, trying to protect him from the sudden assault, while he slowly shuffled forwards.

"Were you raped too?! Did you have some fragger shove you down, or did you willingly allow him to frag you like a whore?"

"Slingshot!," the eldest shih tzu yelled back, close enough now to rip the lamp from the grey mech's servos. "Don't you dare talk about your brother like that!"

Slingshot only glared at him. "Slag you!," he snarled. "Slag you both to the fragging pit. You couldn't keep Fireflight safe and now you can't do anything for Skydive and his bastard spawn! I fragging hate you all!"

Tears were quickly filling Silverbolt's optics -not from pain, but anger. "Slingshot, y-you... you stop this right now! You don't know anything of what's going; you never care to know what's happening! You're so selfish and demanding and running away every time something doesn't go your way!," the multi-coloured mech growled back, "You can't keep acting like this! You need to learn that the world isn't going to always bow to you just because you scream and kick at it! There are people here, people that matter, and sometimes they come before y-"

The shih tzu was cut off as he was suddenly shoved back. "Don't fragging talk to me, you fragger! You ruined our lives; you forced out of our home! I wish you'd never gotten custody of us, I wish you'd just-"

The clap of plating hitting plating echoed loudly in the room. Skydive's gasp of fright quickly followed; the blue mech peeking out from between his fingers anxiously. Stunned, Silverbolt looked at his trembling servo, glancing up and staring in disbelief as the grey mech clutching his cheekplate.

"Sl-slingshot... I-i, I never meant... I'm s-so-"

The youngling shouted wordlessly, lashing out and punching the older autodog square in the face. Silverbolt dropped to the floor, clutching his olfactory sensor as pain shot through his helm, forcing tears to his optics. When he managed to pry them open again, he caught Slingshot's pede disappearing out the front door and a dismayed Air Raid pressed to the railing of the landing outside.

"What...," the red mech shakily asked, stepping into the apartment a little, "w-what... what did you do Silverbolt? What did you say to him?! Why do you have to do these things to Slingshot! You know he's sensitive!" Shaking his helm in disgust, Air Raid ran back out of the apartment, thundering down the stairs, yelling Slingshot's name.

Silverbolt didn't respond.

He sat, half-crouched on the floor, still cupping his face before the shock wore off completely, and he buried his face in his servos and cried.

**Title: Lashing Out**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: He comes to visit Silverbolt**

Trailbreaker was on his way to see Silverbolt when Air Raid bumped into him.

No, 'bump' would be the wrong term. The youngling practically plowed into him, almost knocking them both to the floor. "W-woah!," the karelian cried, catching his balance quickly and grabbing the shih tzu to steady the youngling as well. "B-better slow down there, bud. Ya wouldn't want to hurt yourself."

Air Raid ripped himself from the other autodog's grasp, taking one look at the small bouquet of daisies that had dropped to the floor and spat in disgust.

"You know what you should do!," he snarled, shoving Trailbreaker and stomping on the flowers. "You should stay out of our fragging lives! It's because of people like you that were even in this Primus-forsaken town. You should just stop fragging trying to talk to my brother and leave us the frag alone before you ruin our lives anymore!"

Elbowing past the frozen mech, Air Raid continued running down the street, screaming his brother's name, getting hoarser and hoarser by the astrosecond. Staring blankly at his trampled gift, the dark mech slowly turned away, heading in a direction opposite of either the red shih tzu and Silverbolt.


	24. Insectipuma

**Title: Insectipuma**   
**Rating: M**

He was supposed to be special; he was supposed to be royalty.

The thin kittycon scowled, arms crossing over his chestplates and lilac optics narrowing in disgust. His companion cocked his helm at him, feeling the other puma's rising ire. "Is everything alright; alright?," the second one asked, tearing back the wrapping on an energon bar. "You are frowning; frowning."

Shrapnel twisted his helm away from the gringy streetlights and traffic-swollen streets, turning and striding down the boulevard quickly. His lackey, Kickback, followed behind him closely, shoving that over-refined sweet into his mouth, before grabbing another one out of his pocket. "No, everything is not alright; alright!," he hissed back to his friend. His voice followed the other's strange speech pattern; an eerie, almost hollow echo of every last word repeating at the end of his sentences. "I am royalty; royalty! The only heir of the great Insectipuma Tribes; Tribes! I should be learning politics, I should be rich, I should be treated with the utmost respect; respect! I... I;i..."

The other puma licked his fingers clean of any left-over sweetness, catching up with the smaller youngling. "But instead you are treated like child; child," Kickback smiled casually, "You are given government grants, and paid to go to a great private school in Iacon, but everyone looks down on you and does not take your ancestry seriously; seriously. They think you are equal with them; them. You have ranted about this before; before."

The second kittycon bristled at the subtle jab. "Whether I've said it before or not; not," Shrapnel hissed, whirling around and baring his fangs at his companion, "Does not change the facts; facts. I should be honoured and awed; awed! My heritage should be acknowledged and respected; respected! We were a strong Tribe, a powerful Tribe; Tribe! Autodog and Kittycons trembled in fear at our-"

"Food; food!" Kickback turned his helm away from Shrapnel suddenly, grinning like a fool before he sprinted down the sidewalk to the hotdog stand sitting near the corner. The other youngling gaped at suddenly being abandoned, before he snarled and stomped after his wayward friend.

"Can't you think of nothing besides filling your gut; gut!," Shrapnel growled testily.

The taller mech shook his helm, practically bouncing in front of the hotdog stand. "Three jumbo sausages, with the works; works!," he chirped at the vendor. The older 'bot turned at the order, his servos reaching for a set of prongs hooked to his apron.

"Certainly. That'll just be-"

Whatever else the vendor might have said slipped Shrapnel's processor as he stared up at the broader mech, his optics flaring at the characteristic stoutness and colouration of the stranger's plating. This mech was Insectipuma, just like them!

**xXx**

Working at the hotdog stand wasn't Bombshell's real job. He'd never be able to afford his condo and excessive shopping spree in Black Market narcotics, if it was. But he admittedly enjoyed the work (and cracking obscene jokes about his "wares" while he was at it), so he couldn't be bothered to quit. Granted, most orns could be boring and drag on... but, as his optics lighted on the thin, little kittycon, Bombshell could easily note this orn as being one of the better ones.

The youngling and his companion were Insectipuma, same as him, with black and violet plating. Silver marked the smallest one's fur here and there, while gold shone brightly on the others. They both had lilac-coloured optics, unlike the traditional red or blue. Relatives perhaps?, Bombshell wandered idly as he put together the taller youngling's order and handed it to him. The mech turned his gaze away from the scowling kittycon as his friend chirped, chomping on his hotdog and squirting juices down his blazer. Bombshell noticed the name of an institution stitched just above the breast pocket.

"A-ack; ack! Can't you eat with a little more finesse; finesse?! You imbecile; imbecile!," the smallest kittycon hissed, rounding on his companion.

They both had to be students at a private school, the vendor concluded to himself silently. But in order for that to be true, they'd have to be either very rich or very important. Bombshell was curious to know which one it was.

Kickback ignored Shrapnel, barely swallowing before he opened his mouth and took his next monstrous bite. He moaned contently as he chewed.

"Seems your friend is really into that sausage," the mech chuckled lowly, unable to stop the perverted joke from slipping out, "I don't say I blame him. When sweet lips like yours are wrapped around a nice, thick piece of hot, juicy meat, you just can't help but revel at how delicious it is and how good it is to swallow it down. Stick around... Maybe I'll demonstrate what I mean."

The taller one cocked his helm to the side a little as he slowly chewed on his food, the innuendo having gone right over his helm, but the smaller one gave a little cringe of disgust; his gorgeous optics narrowing as he took half a step away from the stranger warily. The sight almost made Bombshell coo.

"And what about you?," he asked sultrily, leaning a little over the cart, his olfactory sensors sniffing at the air faintly. A sweet, warm and earthy scent came drifting up from the youngling, sending Bombshell's sensors crackling. "Would you like to try my sausage as well?"

Shrapnel's scent changed, turned sharper as now his upper lip component curled, unimpressed and both disturbed by the leer the other puma was giving him. "You; you...," he growled, "Y-you may not talk to me like that; that! Vagabond; bond! I am of the highest order, and I will not sit by as you belittle and address me like some wandering tramp; tramp!"

"S-shrapnel; nel?!," Kickback quickly swallowed as the other youngling spun around and sprinted off into the crowd. Stuffing the last of his food in his mouth, the second Insectipuma tore after his wayward friend, leaving the older mech to stand there alone; shuttering his optics in mute shock.

Slowly, Bombshell shook his stupor off, his optics narrowing in contemplation as he leaned his hip against his cart. The lil' youngling sure had an annoying mouth on him... But, his scent... The kittycon grinned darkly, occupying himself with cleaning up his condiments tray. That youngling, that Shrapnel, intrigued him.

He wanted him...

And one way or another, Bombshell decided he would have him.

**xxXxXxx**

When the orn was done, and his cart returned to its proper storage garage, Bombshell would return home to his high-rise condo apartment; rent a porno through the satellite network, pop open a beer and then spent the rest of his night on the couch, relaxing.

Sometimes, only sometimes, would he forgo the usual routine and that was only when he was doing business.

"Yeah... kid's name is Shrapnel..."

Just like right now.

Bombshell grabbed a plastic fork, digging into his take-out distractedly. "Yeah, yeah, yeah...," he grumbled into the phone irritably. "I'm already aware of your fees, Swindle. Give me a discount and I'll throw in a special mix of my home-made brew for you. No, I'm not joking."

The puma rose to his pedes, taking his food into the living room and plopping down on the couch, lifting his pedes up onto the coffee table with a soft grunt.

"Listen," he continued, "Do you want this or not? I mean, I can always take my business elsewhere... It'll be harder, yes, but not unnecessarily impossible. You aren't the only dealer around." He grinned viciously as he heard the devon rex snap angrily on the other side of the phone, holding down his chuckles as best as he could.

"It's five hundred thousand credits Swindle... Take it or leave it."

The other kittycon was silent for a klik, before he sighed and mumbled his agreement to the exchange. Grinning, Bombshell flipped through the pay-per-view channels, eyeing each of the sample screenshots intensely. He paused as he came across a video depicting a small, reedy black and violet kittycon taking a large spike in her mouth, finding the unknown femme's similarities alluring.

"Now, here's what I know already. The youngling's an Insectipuma like myself. Has a bit of a weird accent, black and violet plating with silver markings. Violet optics, thin frame; attends Iacon Stronghold Private Academy. You got that?," Bombshell asked flatly, ordering the porn. He watched as the screen loaded up to show the movie was currently being downloaded. "Find out everything about him. I want family records, vet notes -if he's got a blog, I want that too. Do a good job and I'll throw in an extra crate for you."

Swindle purred his gratitude over the line. Sneering, Bombshell threw aside the remote, double-checking that the tissue box was nearby. "Save your greasy, whoring words for someone willing to fork out the extra cash, Swindle," the puma retorted laughingly into the receiver. "I'll call you in a few days to see how your progress is. If you've got something by then, I'll transfer the funds to your account before coming down to your office. Happy hunting, Swindle."

His bit said, the black mech cut the connection, tossing his phone beside the controller just in time for the movie to finish downloading. Content with his hire and the alcohol making a warm buzz through his circuits as he took another swill from the can, Bombshell leaned back against the couch; unzipping his pants and wrapping his claws around his pressurizing spike, losing himself in pleasant thoughts as the femme's breathy whimpers and mewls began pouring out of the speakers.

**xxXxXxx**

That crude vendor was set-up outside the school gates.

Shrapnel froze as he wandered out after another gaggle of students, turning on his heel, ready to storm back up the long road and to the school across the yard. But a larger mass of students were heading right for him and the puma didn't want to rub elbows with those pathetic commoners, so he had no choice but to go forwards. Scowling, the youngling turned back around, trying to step widely around the Insectipuma.

Apparently, Kickback had other ideas though...

"FOOD; food!," he cried cheerfully, sprinting for the cart.

"I...idiot; idiot!," Shrapnel hissed, watching in horror as his cousin practically flew for the hot dog vendor. The mech smirked as the other youngling reached his cart, his tongs in his servo, awaiting Kickback's order. Shrapnel glanced away as the stranger's leer slid up and focused on him, circuits bristling and raising on end at the way this mech was dishonouring him.

The smaller puma waited for as long as possible, until it became obvious that Kickback would not be leaving the cart anytime soon, before he hissed in aggravation; strutting across the path and joining his cousin. "You are nothing but a stupid glutton; glutton," he remarked viciously to the taller youngling. Blank, innocent optics shuttered down on him. "You left me alone to stand like a fool among all those peasants; peasants! While you rushed over and filled your insatiable gut; gut!"

"Now now," the older puma interrupted with a chuckle, "Your friend was just hungry. There's nothing wrong with that." Shrapnel turned his glare to the vendor. "Come on... Why don't you have one as well? I'm sure you'll find it... delicious."

Bombshell held a fresh hotdog out for the youngling, his grin practically splitting his face as his red optics glittered with some sort of unspoken joke. Realizing what the mech was probably thinking in that twisted helm of his, Shrapnel twisted his helm away from the stranger quickly; sticking his olfactory sensor up into the air as he scowled in disgust. "You can save your scrap for yourself; self," he replied tersely. "I do not partake in commoner trash; trash!"

The other puma's grin fell a little, but the knowing look in his optics did not fade. Handing the hotdog to Kickback's grasping servos, Bombshell leaned across his cart, peering down on the small youngling as he smirked. "Commoner trash, hmm? Last time I checked, this was a nice snack for rich and poor alike. Besides, aren't you as 'common' as the rest of them?," Bombshell gestured to the few students still wandering out of the school's gate, his optics flaring in delight as Shrapnel tensed. "I mean, after the war, the clans lost any stronghold that they possessed; forced into contracts, losing the majority of their lands, the royal hierarchy an insignificant line of in-breeders, demoted into a trivial landmark of history..."

Shrapnel took a step back, hackles rising higher and higher. "S-stop...; stop," he hissed, anger and fear growing within him. He didn't like that this stranger was talking about his people, mocking and jeering at them.

Bombshell's smirk grew a tad wider, his optics refusing to let the youngling go. "That must be ever so insulting to you... You are given free scholarships to attend the finest and richest schools in the county, but it's a poor penance coming from the ones that first stole your lands and pride," he continued, tone growing more and more sadistic as he watched the small puma step back; shrinking as he folded into himself a little, while still trying to maintain his glare. Primus, he was adorable when he looked so cornered. "Tell me, what's it like being crown prince to a dirt hill, dear Shrapnel?"

The taller one paused with a hotdog half-way to his mouth, just as his companion froze altogether; violet optics flared in horror. A small whimper seemed to escape him, before Shrapnel twisted on his heel sharply, bolting down the path toward the city. Surprised with his speed, Bombshell could only shutter his optics dumbfoundedly, almost missing the unfinished hotdog that set itself on the condiment tray. Scowling, the mech turned his gaze to other youngling still standing at his cart.

"What are you l-"

"Outsiders; outsiders," Kickback interrupted, glaring at the other puma, "Should know when to hold their glossas; glossas."

Bombshell snarled, but the youngling merely turned away and hurried after his companion, not even wasting another word or backwards glance on the vendor. That one, the Insectipuma thought viciously, was going to be a problem. He'd have to take care of him before he could even get close to Shrapnel.

The mech slowly began to smirk again.

Well, he always did enjoy a good game of kill and chase.

**xxXxXxx**

Returning home was always a strange affair. An escort waited at the compound gates, separating Kickback and Shrapnel, taking the younglings to two opposite sides of the reserve. The walk through the Insectipuma camp took them through winding, dirt roads; the few mechs walking through the mud and filth bowing low for their prince. Shrapnel merely glanced at them all, his gaze lingering on the tiny, dilapidated huts that most of his clan considered home these orns. They never had to live in such squander before... Was this what their once splendid tribe had been reduced to?

His escort led him past the regular string of leaning huts, towards a small bungalow set aside on a slight hill. Compared to the rest of the houses in the compound, this was a palace, and for Shrapnel, it was his home. Changing from his school uniform into royal robes, Shrapnel was then escorted from the bungalow to a smaller house across the compound; a little dirtied and worn-down, but in as fine a shape as his own home. Wards hung over the doors and incense burned as he was shown through the door, his guard staying behind. This was a sacred place, and they had not been invited in.

Shrapnel barely glanced at the ridiculous and old relics hanging from the ceiling and pinned to the walls, candlelight casting shadows into all the corners of the room. Nothing scared him in this house; he'd come here often since he was but a small sparkling. Walking forward, the puma paused as a young femme walked by, heading into the same room as him. She carried a tea tray, the pot carrying the clan's traditional drink, which had been dutifully prepared for both her master and prince. He watched as she set it down on a small table set low to the floor, before she turned and left again, bowing respectively as she went.

Shrapnel paid the other puma no mind. He was royalty- he owed nothing to these peasants except an heir for the throne.

"Elder; elder," he spoke, walking briskly into the sitting room. An old, decrepit kittycon sat on the ring of cushions lining the floor; his fur patched and matted, one optic discoloured with approaching blindness and the other completely black.

At the youngling's entrance, the old mech leaned forward in his seat, resting his helm on the floor as he bowed. "Prince," he croaked gravelly, "I have waited for your return. Please, sit. We have much to discuss."

At the aging puma's gesture, Shrapnel turned to the only chair in the room, richly crafted from dark wood and painted in a series of golden symbols. A number of comfy cushions surrounded and were set on its seat; warm, perfumed furs skinned from wild cats draped over the arms. Pleased by the offer, the youngling quickly sat, crossing his legs and sitting straight-back against the chair.

"You requested my immediate presence upon my return; return," he stated, looking down on the Insectipuma's balding helm. The other mech stalled a moment before speaking, taking a drag from a hookah that rested near him.

"Yes," he coughed, exhaling a cloud of foul-scented smoke. "The mech has come from the school again; he brings me updates on your status there. We are honoured our prince is excelling so wonderfully as we knew he would, but the autodog brings bad news as well. He states that if his majesty's behaviour does not improve, he may be removed from his class before the end of the year. We are concerned, my prince."

"Concerned; concerned?," Shrapnel snarled, tensing in his seat. He could not take more than one insult to his person twice in an orn, "I am not the one who forgets his place; place! These autodogs- they are commoners; commoners! They believe their new cash makes us all equal, but their energon is as impure as their thoughts; thoughts! I have agreed to this mockery of education for my people but I refuse to be swayed to their hedonistic ways; ways. We are Insectipuma; one of the oldest and powerful of lineages; ages! We have been cut down in numbers by the lesser breeds so-called 'progress' but that does not change who we are; are. We are still people of the land and sky and those commoners should respect us as the deities that we are; are! Anything less is an insult to our clan, our kin and our pride; pride."

The ancient mech lifted a servo, and Shrapnel, despite his protest, held his glossa. The elders were beholden to the crown, but even a prince had to respectively fall quiet and allow them to speak.

"You...," the old puma wheezed, taking another hit from his hookah, "Are correct, my prince. You are above these heretics... but you walk among this world now. They are ignorant and thus do not understand their place, those young ones, but you must only tolerate this for a little while longer..."

The youngling perked up in his seat, his optics shimmering slightly with excitement. "D-do; do... do you mean what I think you do, Elder; elder?," he asked impatiently, servos bunching in his lap. "You have trained me for many years, I had almost feared; feared..."

The old mech smiled, bowing his helm to the smaller puma. "Rest your worries, my prince. At the end of this graduating year, you are to be wed to your intended," he answered to the other's joy. "You have worked hard for this day, I know."

For once, Shrapnel bowed to another. "Yes; yes," he confessed breathlessly, "I had at first been affronted that you should send us to the commoner's institution, but now I see your wisdom in this action; action. It would be beneficial for both my mate and I to know of the outsiders' world; world. The young we brood will be both knowledgeable and strong; they will lift our Tribe back up to its rightful place in this world; world."

Cheekplates tinged slightly with a rising blush, Shrapnel straightened up in his seat. "I shall henceforth be a model of our people until I finish my classes; classes. I do not wish to dishonour the clan; clan."

The Elder chuckled, blowing a ring of smoke to the side. "That I am sure you shall do, my prince," he replied. "Lord Kickback is blessed to be worthy of your vessel. Now, before we get too ahead of ourselves, my prince, let us continue with your lessons. You have thirty-five different traditions to adhere to on the day of your ceremony. To make even one mistake would be dishonouring to both yourself and the divinities."

Shrapnel rose to his pedes the same time as the Elder. Making sure his robes were not caught on anything, the youngling nodded, falling in step behind the other mech as they left the room. He knew the risks of dishonour and the terrible consequences that could follow from insulting the divinities, but he had been looking forward to this orn since his betrothed had been selected.

Smiling confidently, Shrapnel knew he would not fail.

**xxXxXxx**

"What do you mean he's _betrothed_!?"

"I mean," Swindle sighed, rolling his optical sensors on the screen, "That he's engaged to wed his cousin at the end of spring. The clan's have those old traditions and all- they believe that only the royal family can keep with in touch with the divine, and to ensure that their Chief always has a direct link to the Heavens, they wed off the oldest to another of similar royal ties. They've unfortunately been thinning out over the years in terms of 'sacred energon', so pickings are _slim_ , but-"

"Shut up," Bombshell snarled, whirling away from the computer. He stormed into his kitchen, making circles in frustration. "Slag... this throws a wrench into my plans..."

"What plans?," the devon rex scowled from back in the living room. "Oh, wait, the ones where you want to frag the youngling into next year. Right, you can forget about those, by the way. The kid's not even going to be 'persuaded' into hopping into your berth."

The Insectipuma sniffed in disbelief.

"And how do you know that?," he demanded testily.

Swindle looked back at him blankly. "Because, we're talking about a tribe of fanatics. Their whole system is defined by their religion- this cub has been raised believing that he is a demigod. He won't give himself for other than who he's been blessed and sanctioned for. And I know that's not you."

"So, you mean, I'd have to marry the brat to get into his codpiece...," Bombshell frowned. Well, that's just the opposite of what he wanted to hear. Lusting after the presumptuous youngling was one thing... becoming his bondmate though, just for that one chance? Forget it!

"You sure-"

"Very," Swindle cut in sharply, already perceiving the puma's question. "Listen, the Insectipuma Tribes are facing hard times just like the other Native Tribes. The rate of progression has both stunted and demolished any of their usual routes of trade, and they've been grid-locked from even more of their ancient lands through repo-contracts. With no actual income and the majority of them uneducated, economical and even health crisis are on the rise. Tradition is all these 'bots have- the hope for a new heir to bring about change to their unfortunate circumstances. Honestly, I think they're being ridiculous overall, but who am I to speak. I mean-"

"Shut up," the black mech growled, having grown tired of the other kittycon's rambling. "I read the paper- I'm not as stupid as you think, Swindle."

"That's to be seen...," he heard the devon rex mutter under his intakes. Glaring at the screen, Bombshell turned and began to pace; one claw stroking at his chin.

"You say the economy in the Tribes is suffering... Aren't they receiving government aid?"

Swindle shook his helm. "Yes, but barely enough to sustain themselves. The Tribes' mechs have to leave the reserve to get work, and given their education, its sparse, if they find any. There's no support office or even a registered doctor on the compound and so they have to rely on the occasional visit from the government advocate for anything. Even medical supplies take too long to get to the reserves, if they even get to the Tribes at all. So, we're talking... Massive loss of energy, heat and even homes from frequent and often times, harsh weather conditions. No education and no source of work on the compounds, tied in with a steady rise of common house flus that then cripple almost an entire family. Food is sparser, the birth rate is at an all-time low... simply put, life _sucks_ , for any of the Tribe clans."

Bombshell stopped his pacing as Swindle finished his lecture, grabbing a beer, before seating himself in front of the computer. His acquaintance on the screen grimaced at the contemplative look that came over the puma's face; his black ears dipping in unease.

"...what the slag are you thinking?," Swindle began suspiciously. He barely suppressed a shiver as the Insectipuma smirked. "Actually, scratch that. I don't want to know what the frag goes on in your sick processor."

Bombshell laughed. "Oh, but Swindle -aren't you even the little bit _curious_?"

The devon rex scowled. "No."

"Tell me," the black mech continued, shrugging nonchalantly at the other's reply, "What's the market sale and overall rate of purchase for the lovely gift of mine I gave you?"

"Quite well, actually," Swindle started, transgressing into business smoothly, "There's a- wait a klik! You can't- No! No fragging way! Are you _insane_?!"

Bombshell almost couldn't suppress his chuckles. "How funny to see a conscious in you, Swindle," he mocked, "Are you really that concerned about our wild brethen?"

"No," the broker growled. "But I also know not to poke at sleeping monsters and this one is a giant, slumbering mess of volatile rage! What the frag are you so fixed on this youngling for?!"

The other mech did not look the least bit guilty. "What can I say," he answered coolly, finishing his drink, "The kid is intriguing... He poses a challenge to me, and who am I to back down? Just because the rules have changed, doesn't mean the game is over. And tricks or not, I'm in it for the win." Bombshell grinned darkly and Swindle cringed at the mad smile.

"Whatever," he eventually said, leaning forward on his side of the screen. "Just don't expect me to let you drag me into this insanity."

Then he cut the feed, leaving the puma to stare at a black screen. Shuttering his optics, Bombshell couldn't help but to burst out laughing.


	25. Silverbolt III

**Title: Walk Away**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: Silverbolt goes to visit Trailbreaker**

Silverbolt grasped the paper lunch bag tightly in his servo, trying to shake off his nerves. It had been a few orns since Skydive had returned to them, and life had gotten horribly worse since. Air Raid wouldn't talk with any of them, Slingshot constantly stormed out and could not be found for cycles, and Fireflight was downright upset with Skydive for reasons that the oldest shih tzu was certain had to do with the slagging kittycon that had knocked him up.

The two shih tzus couldn't even be in the same room anymore...

Their anger put both them and the sparks they carried at risk.

Everything was just piling up and Silverbolt felt that he was at his final breaking point. He didn't know anymore how he was going to keep his family together, let alone safe and happy. What he really needed right now was a friend to talk to.

Sparking puttering weakly as he neared the mechanic's shop, Silverbolt attempted to put on a smile to greet Trailbreaker with. He ignored the frequent glances being shot his way as he rounded the building's front, heading for the fenced off backyard. The shih tzu felt overjoyed to find the karelian out back, hauling heavy crates from one side of the yard to the next.

For a klik, he deliberated calling out the other autodog's name, but the multi-coloured mech was saved the effort when Trailbreaker turned around; his visor looking up and catching sight of Silverbolt. Smiling a little brighter, the shih tzu started to raise his servo in hello but froze as the karelian simply turned away and headed to the farther side of the yard.

Dumbfounded, Silverbolt stood there, his servo slowly dropping back down to his side. Shuttering his optics blankly, he turned and walked away from the mechanic's shop, pretending he didn't feel the heat glazing his optics thickly or the penetrating, jeering stares of the other villagers.

**Title: Turning Point**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: It's time**

It had been a horror when they heard the water splash on the ground in the middle of night. Slingshot was up first, having been in the same room with Fireflight to begin with, grabbing the woozy sparkling and laying him gently him back into berth. "Silverbolt! Silverbolt, Skydive!," he shouted, "He just peed all over the floor!"

The two older mechs rushed into the room, Air Raid following groggily behind. "Move aside, Slingshot," Silverbolt ordered, dropping to his knees beside Fireflight's berth. He patted the sparkling's helm, pushing him back down on the sheets when the smaller shih tzu tried to push up.

Skydive sat on the end of their brother's berth, grabbing Fireflight's legs and spreading them. "He's broken his water," the blue mech informed tersely, prying off the other's shorts with quick determination. "He's going to need something to bite down on so he doesn't bite his own glossa. Air Raid, go to the washroom and fill a basin with hot water please. Grab a wash clothe as well. Slingshot, stay back please."

"W-wait," Air Raid stuttered, snapping fully awake at the orders, "Y-you... you're not g-going to s-seriously d-deliver a sp-sparkling here are y-you?! Y-you don't e-even know what you're d-doing!"

"Do you expect us to go to the hospital?," Silverbolt snapped, turning away from the now whimpering Fireflight and glaring at the two younglings. "Aside from the fact that the nearest hospital is at least several miles away, you know how they'd react if we brought Fireflight in. What would be the point of everything that we're doing, if we allowed the system to find out about Fireflight?"

The words were a slap in the face. Gritting his denta, Air Raid turned away from the door, to go and get the basin as ordered. Angry and uncertain, Slingshot stood in the corner of the room, watching as Silverbolt and Skydive huddled around Fireflight; petting and stroking his helms and servos, telling him to breathe, that everything would be okay, push, they were all there for him...

The sparkling sobbed in agony, tossing his helm back and crying to the ceiling as his frame gave a little spasm. "V-vor... vortex!," he croaked, keening brokenly as he clenched the oldest shih tzu's fingers.

The name brought out various reactions from all occupants in the room, but for Slingshot -who had flinched at the wail- he did not see the effect it had on his brothers. All he felt was the rage rise up in him like a demon, until he wanted nothing more than to scream at Fireflight. Even in the very depths of pain and despair, he was still calling for that mech? Why? Why was he calling for the monster that had done this to him?! But though yelling might have made Slingshot feel better... the grey mech resolutely remained silent.

He had to.

It was not in his nature to be so cruel to his baby brother in this darkest moment.

Air Raid slammed into him on his way into the berthroom, sloshing water on the smaller youngling. Slingshot only snarled at the action, but did not comment on it when the red shih tzu pushed on ahead, without an apology given.

"H-here!," Air Raid said, putting the basin on the floor beside Silverbolt. He leaned over the other's shoulder, slipping a knotted dish towel in Fireflight's mouth. It stiffled the sobs and whimpers only slightly. "W-what now?"

"Now we wait," Silverbolt answered grimly, grabbing the wash clothe with his free servo and wiping it along the sparkling's damp brow. "Skydive... can you deliver the sparkling?"

The blue mech trembled between their little brother's spread thighs, rubbing his belly in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "I... I don't know, Silverbolt," Skydive snapped testily, "We're talking about delivering a b-bornling! I h-have no training for this; just theory! I-if... if something goes wrong..."

"We'll worry about it then," Air Raid quickly cut in. He looked at each of his brothers in turn, before turning his determined optics to Fireflight. "Fireflight's tough. He can pull through this- I know he can! You hear me, Firefly? Keep on fighting," the red autodog cheered, smiling as best as he could so his littlest brother could see. "T-the pain, it's only going to last for a little bit a-and then it'll all be over. Give it all you've got; keep on pushing. You're going to get through this, okay? We're all here for you, so... so, just don't break down yet. Alright?"

Fireflight only shuttered his watery optics at Air Raid, before he offlined them entirely; helm tossing back as he screamed weakly around the towel in his mouth.

**Title: Special**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: Air Raid checks in on his little brother**

Several hours later, everything was quiet. Three frames were passed out on the couch, but a fourth tip-toed across the room silently, heading for one of the berthroom doors. Quietly, Air Raid pushed the door open, peeking inside. At the gentle sound, Fireflight awoke from his light sleep, looking up at his brother with bleary optics.

"Hey...," the red mech whispered softly. He walked into the room, closing the door behind him. "I brought you some water... How you doing?"

The older autodog helped Fireflight up into a sitting position, handing him the glass before scooping up the little bornling that lay beside the sparkling's side. "Wow...," Air Raid breathed, looking down into the hybrid's sleeping face as he sat down, "He certainly is special, ain't he?"

Fireflight lowered his cup slowly, turning his face to the bigger shih tzu. "Y-you're... you're not mad?," he asked softly, almost afraid. The red mech looked at Fireflight surprised.

"Why... why would I be mad, Firefly?," Air Raid asked worriedly.

The sparkling gripped his cup tightly as tears came to his optics again, his voice cracking as he answered. "B-because, b-because everyone e-else l-looks so a-angry a-and I d-don't know w-why... I-i, I do-don't want t-them to b-be angry! I d-don't want th-them to h-hate m-my bor-"

The older autodog quickly reached forward, cupping one servo behind Fireflight's helm and pulling his baby brother to him. "Ssh... ssh, ssh...," he hushed gently, kissing the sparkling's helm. "It's alright, Fireflight. Ssh... don't cry... The others aren't angry, they're just... they're worried, Firefly. You w-went through a very painful experience, now and before, but Silverbolt, Skydive, Slingshot... None of us are mad, Firefly, just worried."

"But look," Air Raid continued, tipping Fireflight's chin up and gesturing to the bornling tucked securely in his arm still, "Look at this lil' one... Even from something so bad, came something so good."

The older shih tzu gently put the bornling into his brother's arms then, watching as Fireflight's optics slowly dried and a happy smile came to his face. "Don't let anyone tell you that he isn't special, Fireflight," the youngling added, stroking the sparkling's helm tenderly, "No matter how this bornling came to be, he is still yours now. I know you'll give him all the love he deserves."

Fireflight sighed, holding his bornling closer. "My bornling...," he whispered warmly, nuzzling the slumbering hybrid's helm softly, "My little Breakdown..."

Air Raid smiled, overjoyed to see some sort of happiness in his baby brother after so long. Unknownst to them both, Silverbolt stood outside the berthroom door, leaning against the wall as he had listened in to the younger shih tzus' exchange. Hugging himself, he looked out the window, to where light was blooming over the horizon, lost in silent contemplation.

**Title: Stranger**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: Is this the end of their running?**

"Have a good day. Hello, and welcome to Green Pasture's Groceries..." Silverbolt greeted his newest customer flatly, unable to even force a smile. Not that the other 'bot cared. None of the villagers really cared or wanted the shih tzu's politeness.

Shuttering his optics quickly to push back the rising scream that wanted to burst out, the multi-coloured mech continued scanning the customer's items through; bagging them and tapping rapidly at the terminal to finalize the sale. "That'll be sixty-four credits and twelve chips, please," he said, turning to face the other autodog.

Again, Silverbolt found his thoughts wandering as he waited for his customer to count through their change. They would have to make a trip to the next closet town, he realized. Fireflight's delivery had come earlier than expected; they were unprepared for a bornling. They would need bottles, and diapers, clothes... They were making do with what they had right now, but it would not be enough soon. Swallowing back his sigh, Silverbolt took the customer's credits, tapping the amount into the register and giving the 'bot their change back.

The shih tzu supposed the only good thing to come about was the fact that Breakdown was a very quiet bornling. He didn't seem to make any fuss, as long as he was kept near his carrier. It would be quite difficult otherwise to keep both his and Fireflight's existence a secret, if the bornling was a screamer.

"Hello and welcome to Green Pasture's Groceries," the autodog repeated as the next customer stepped up in line.

A young mech came running past the store windows, screeching to a stop outside, before turning sharply and slamming through the grocer doors. Panting, he ran up to an older femme waiting in line a couple registers over. "Gran, you must come quick!," he said in a hoarse wheeze, "Some kittycon drove into town! Uncle's seen him go into the ol' Wilksons' place and he-"

Customers gasped, in outrage and surprise, as Silverbolt leapt over the counter, wrestling his apron off and running for the doorway. He broke into a desperate sprint as soon as he hit outside, hurrying down the little town to his apartment. He ignored all the shouts and cries thrown at his backstruts, optics tearing up and spark pulsing erratically as the shih tzu drew closer and closer to his home. Fireflight, his processor whimpered weakly, servos clenching in fear.

Silverbolt was still a block away when he saw the stranger descending the stairs, a tiny mech cradled in his big arms. The sight spurred him to go faster as the kittycon headed for the van parked in front of the shop.

**Title: Meeting**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: He meets for the first time the littlest shih tzu**

"Who exactly are y-ack!" Skydive jumped to his pedes as Air Raid was suddenly shoved off to the side, his book dropping from his servos as he watched Onslaught duck a little under the doorway, walking into the tiny apartment. Cupping his bulging belly, the blue mech slowly backed away, his legs hitting the couch.

"O-onslaught...," he gaped fearfully, "W-why... y-you're not supposed t-to be here! Wait! N-no! Please, d-don't go in there!" Skydive hurried as best as he could in his state, grabbing the kittycon's arm and attempting to tug him back from Fireflight's berthroom door. The green mech only paused momentarily, gently grabbing the shih tzu and pushing him a few metres back, before he turned and opened the door.

Air Raid growled, having gotten back up on his pedes, rushing for Onslaught. He was forced to stop when Skydive threw his arms out, blocking the youngling's path. "W-wait...," he begged softly, turning his teary optics to the berthroom, watching as Onslaught shuffled awkwardly into the tiny room.

Fireflight, sitting up in bed quietly, shuttered his optics as the stranger walked into his room. Neither spoke as the serval slowly lowered himself onto the other berth, resting his arms on his knees. Their staring contest continued for a few more, silent astroseconds before the kittycon held his servo out toward the autodog. Shyly, Fireflight glanced down at the bornling cradled in his arms, before he shifted across the berth, placing Breakdown delicately into Onslaught's servos.

Venting softly, the bigger mech leaned back, lifting the hybrid up to his face. Little optics shuttered slowly, showing a small glimpse of brilliant purple, before the bornling gave a tiny whimper. "...my grandson," Onslaught mumbled, cradling Breakdown in the crook of his arm as he stroked under the little chin with one, large finger. The bornling made a face before grabbing the digit and clutching tightly to the kittycon's fingertip.

When Breakdown had settled down again, Onslaught pulled his servo back, glancing quickly at Fireflight. "Come," he ordered quietly, holding his servo out for the sparkling again.

Air Raid and Skydive watched as their little brother stood up in berth, looking at the kittycon fearlessly, even allowing the green mech to pick him up and cradle him to his chestplates as well. Taking his bornling back from the stranger, Fireflight rested his helm easily on Onslaught's shoulder plating, rocked gently as the serval carried him out of the room and into the living room. Air Raid rushed to block the front door when he headed for it.

"Where do you think you're going?," he growled, "You're not taking my brother, you fr-"

"Air Raid," Skydive cut in, circling around and looking at the youngling imploringly, "P-please..." Confused, the red shih tzu paused, servos clenched at his side uncertainly. Slowly, the older autodog turned, facing Onslaught.

"O-onslaught...," he started, searching the kittycon's face desperately, "You... you're not taking Fireflight away from us, a-are you?"

The serval looked almost hurt at the question. He stepped forward, cupping Skydive's cheekplate with his free servo and kissing the surprised shih tzu. "...I'm taking you all away with me," Onslaught answered, pulling back slowly. "I love you, Skydive, and I do not wish to lose you either. I take full responsibility for all the troubles you and your family have had to suffer needlessly, and I can promise you all security... So, please, say you'll come back and be my bondmate..."

Skydive looked from the serval to the sparkling clutching the green mech's shirt, who was staring back at his brother with calm, bright optics. Returning his gaze to Onslaught, the blue autodog was unable to hold back the whimper that rose, burying his face deep into the kittycon's chestplates as he was pulled into a one-armed hug. Air Raid looked on, optics dimmed anxiously, as Skydive finally pulled away, sharing another kiss with the serval.

"Skydive...?" His brother turned away from Onslaught, grasping his servo and squeezing gently.

"It's alright, Air Raid," Skydive assured him gently, turning the red mech's helm back to him when the youngling looked to watch the kittycon walk out the front door. "We'll be okay now. Trust me, please...?"

Swallowing sharply, Air Raid looked straight into the older autodog's optics; sighing after a few astroseconds. Clenching his fists, the youngling bowed his helm for a moment before turning a small smile up at Skydive. The sight of it caused such choking relief to spread from the blue mech's spark that he almost cried as he hugged his younger sibling suddenly. Patting Skydive's backstruts gently, Air Raid turned them to the doorway, taking the lead out of the apartment and down the staircase.

**Title: Choice**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: He has a decision to make**

"What do you think you are doing?!"

Skydive quickly clambered back out of the car as he saw Silverbolt came running up behind Onslaught, attempting to take a swing at the kittycon's helm. The older mech was faster though; he pulled out of the van, dodging the poor fist and grabbing the shih tzu's wrist before he could try again. Growling, Silverbolt shook himself free, taking several steps back.

"S-silverbolt, please!," the blue mech begged, circling around the car and standing weakly before Onslaught. "It's alright! Onslaught doesn't mean any harm!"

"On...Onslaught?," his brother mumbled, rubbing his sore wrist. He stared in horror as the kittycon gently grasped Skydive's shoulders, turning the younger mech to the side.

"Take your seat, Skydive," Onslaught said lowly, "You'll put stress on your body otherwise."

Skydive shook his helm violently. "N-no, no I can't! Silverbolt, please," he begged, turning to his brother, grasping his belly weakly. "You o-once let m-me go to f-find my h-happiness wi-with your bl-blessing... O-onslaught s-says he c-can take care of all of us. F-for our sake -for Fireflight's sake- d-don't we d-deserve n-not to have k-keep hiding and w-worrying?"

Silverbolt didn't know what to say. He looked from Skydive, to the kittycon standing behind him still, watching in a daze as the serval gently grasped the autodog's hip; Skydive turning and smiling shortly up at Onslaught. He felt another presence draw up to his side faintly, before a growl dragged him back out of his thoughts. Turning, the older shih tzu saw that it was Slingshot.

Onslaught looked blankly up at the other two autodogs at the threatening sound, before guiding Skydive back to his seat and helping the carrying shih tzu to buckle in beside his two younger brothers. Air Raid peeked out from the back seat window, his gaze nervous as he studied Silverbolt and Slingshot.

"You may choose to come or stay," the green mech informed shortly as he straightened up, looking at the others seriously, "I will not force you either way. But your brothers are now apart of my family, and I protect those who are part of my family."

Onslaught glanced at the crowd that they had started to create over time. "I'd be quick about your decisions though. There is somewhere else I have to be."

It was all like some bad dream. Silverbolt glanced at the gathering villagers, seeing them whisper and jeer behind their servos as they collected at different points of the streets; little femmes and mechs pressing their faces against glass to see what all the adults were fussing about. The shih tzu could almost see the animosity grow, highlighting all of the autodogs with a toxic colour as they continued their gossiping and their scandalized glares. This was certainly no place to set roots... and no place safe for Fireflight to be period.

Looking down on his younger brother, the multi-coloured mech sighed, before facing the kittycon again. He said nothing as he walked forward slowly. At his silent confirmation, Onslaught nodded, getting into the driver's seat. Silverbolt paused half-way to the vehicle, turning his helm to Slingshot. The youngling still stayed where he had been standing before, fists clenched at his side and fangs bared defensively. At his brother's strong gaze, the grey mech's mouth slowly closed into an uncertain frown, his optics studying Silverbolt curiously.

"Come on, Slingshot," the older shih tzu said, "Let's leave."

The youngling's ears lifted an inch in surprise. Hesitantly, Slingshot started forward before breaking out into a jog and clambering into the back seats behind Skydive. Smiling wryly, Air Raid shut the door behind Slingshot, leaving the only free seat up beside the driver. Mutely, Silverbolt climbed into the passenger seat, buckling himself in as Onslaught started the car and drove out of Yuss for good.

**Title: Home**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: They return to Iacon**

The kittycon drove them all the way through Iacon, into the suburbs and onto a block of white, little houses. Pulling into the drive-way of one, Onslaught stopped the car, getting out and helping Skydive from the van. At the silent signal, everyone else clambered out too, following after the serval as he headed for the door. Skydive looked confused and, as he opened his mouth to speak, his brothers were soon to find out why.

"This... this isn't your place, Onslaught."

"No, it isn't," Onslaught agreed, pausing at the door. "It's now-"

"Yours," another mech said, as the door swung open. Blast Off stared down at the small congregation of autodogs, and they all stared up at him in turn, marveling at how tall he was even compared to Onslaught. His optics fell to the smallest shih tzu last, gazing silently at the little bundle in his arms. Fireflight's optics flashed in recognition as the siamese continued to stare at him, and he bounced forward quickly, smiling as he reached up for Blast Off's servo.

"Hello! I remember you," the sparkling beamed as the kittycon bent to be at equal height with him, "You're the one who took me to the train station. You told me how to get home to my brothers."

All attention was on Blast Off then. Even his sire was staring on in surprise. Venting softly, the siamese looked to the shih tzu again. "Thank you," Fireflight continued, smiling in shyness all of a sudden. "Thank you for helping me get home to my brothers. I had missed them a lot."

"...You are welcome," the kittycon answered, rising to his pedes again. "Come, let me show you to your room."

Blast Off walked inside, Fireflight still clutching his finger, leaving the others to follow behind. Onslaught frowned as he found the autodogs all peering at him curiously, as if holding him responsible for the siamese knowing their baby brother. "Apparently my sons knew more about your family than I had first thought...," the serval grumbled.

"In either case," Onslaught continued, clearing his throat nervously, "This..." He gestured to the living room and the dining room, all fully furnished to the shih tzus' surprise. "Is your home now. The mortgage has been paid off, bills taken care of for three years. You have a big backyard and a family bank account has been open for all of you. A nursery has been made for the bornling and all such Child Service records or search warrants for Fireflight have been erased. None of you will have to worry about being split ever again..."

Air Raid and Slingshot stared incredulously into each of the rooms, before sprinting upstairs, shouting and shoving their way to the top. Overwhelmed, Skydive hugged Onslaught's arm tightly, burying his face into the kittycon's sleeve as joyful tears filled his optics. Staring into their new kitchen, seeing all the shelves full of dishes and the fridge stocked with food, Silverbolt didn't know what to say. He turned, mouth open in disbelief as he faced Onslaught, a servo held to his helm as coolant started glazing his optics as well.

"H-how... I-i... why?," the oldest autodog asked.

Onslaught looked at him kindly. "Because of my family, yours has had to suffer. The mech who was once my son is to blame, but I can not undo what he has done..." Onslaught paused, turning his gaze to Skydive. "My happiness is in Skydive, just as I know a large piece of his happiness resides in you, his brothers. I never want to be apart from him again... but the only way I can atone, is to ensure that your family is well cared for in return. I only can hope you'll all accept my apologies."

Skydive smiled at the thoughtful words, reaching up and kissing the serval quickly, while Silverbolt watched, realizing how happy his brother looked. He truly was in love with Onslaught... Tears slipping down his cheekplates, Silverbolt gave a little sob, before collapsing in the nearest chair. Both Skydive and Onslaught turned to him in concern, but the multi-coloured mech only touched the table and chairs near him in wonder, before turning his weary smile to the serval. "T-thank you...," he breathed, "Thank yo-you, for e-everything."

Onslaught slowly nodded.

"HELLO HELLO HELLO!," a voice shouted exuberantly, a brown and mud-covered kittycon storming through the kitchen door. "More friends to play with! I'm happy to meet you and you and you, and I've got pretty flowers for everyone!"

"Brawl...," Onslaught sighed, slapping a servo to his face.

Silverbolt leaned back dangerously as flowers were thrust in his face. "SEE! Aren't they pretty? Don't you like them? I d-"

"Brawl!"

The younger kittycon turned away from the stunned shih tzu, facing his sire. His optics lit up and his tail swished merrily as he spotted Skydive. "AHH! NEW MOMMY! Hi new mommy! I hope you'll love me like I love you!"

"Umm, yes...," Onslaught sighed, gesturing to the serval now kneeling at Skydive's pedes, purring as the blue mech shyly patted his helm. "My second-oldest Brawl. I'm very sorry. He's just... very excitable..."

"N-no...," Silverbolt mumbled, slowly shaking off his shock. He looked at the brown mech, content to find Skydive smiling again as he accepted the freshly ripped up flowers from Brawl. "No, it's alright... I'm, I'm just happy," he confessed, a tear wavering at the edge of his optics. "I'm happy to see them all happy again."

The older kittycon's optics lit with understanding. "Agreed...," he replied, taking Skydive's servo into his own, slipping a small object into the shih tzu's palm. The smaller mech's optics flared ecstatically as he felt what it was. Onslaught watched, his spark swelling with pride and love as Skydive slipped on his engagement ring once more. "Agreed..."


	26. Vortex and Fireflight V

**C.M.D: Once more, we've got Vortex and Fireflight stories. Fireflight has aged some, but he is still a minor and Vortex is still a creep. So, if you'd like to avoid any upcoming sexual interactions, please head on over to my FF.net account to read the censored version.**

**Title: Happy**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: What defines happiness?**

The siamese took him up to the very last room at the end of the hallway. Not saying a word, the kittycon opened the door, gently leading the autodog to go in first. Fireflight did and found himself gaping in wonder. It was such a big room, bigger than he'd ever had before, with walls painted in a warm, sunny yellow and white trimming on the floorboards and sill. A delicate crib, set low for the sparkling, was positioned near the large window, right in the path of a beam of sunlight. A change station, a quaint chest of toys and even a small berth accompanied the crib.

Smiling in joy, Fireflight padded further into the room, cradling Breakdown carefully as he inspected and touched each of the new and amazing things. "I-is... is this all for us?," he asked, turning his helm back to Blast Off, who remained standing in the doorway.

The brown mech nodded.

"We discovered you were carrying... Our sire decided to make the appropriate changes to accommodate."

"I see...," the shih tzu hummed in response to the flat answer. He sat down in the rocking chair beside the crib, shifting the blankets so that Breakdown would be more visible. Skydive and Silverbolt had told him lots of times before that he had to keep the bornling hidden away, but in this bright, big room, Fireflight wanted nothing more than to share this sense of serenity and peace with his son.

"That big mech... he likes See-Dee a lot, doesn't he?," Fireflight said, turning his helm back to Blast Off. The siamese had quietly entered the room now, and was fixing things around the place so they would be more convenient for the sparkling. At the question, he stopped what he was doing, twisting his helm to glance coolly at the autodog. "He says he's going to take care of us now. Are See-Dee and him going to get married too?"

Blast Off nodded slowly. "Our sire -Onslaught- cares for your brother deeply. They had planned to get bonded previously."

Fireflight giggled a little at the answer, turning his merry expression down to the freshly-waking bornling. "Does that mean Onslaught is a grampa?"

The siamese was hesitant to reply. "...Yes," he eventually said, watching as the sparkling's optics glowed in delight.

"I guess that means you're my new brother and Breakdown's uncle too," the white mech beamed, looking up at the kittycon. "I like that. I never had a big family before." Fireflight turned his gaze to the gently cooing bornling, who purred and clicked for his carrier's attention. "I think we're going to like it here a lot, Breakdown. I bet we'll be very happy."

Blast Off said nothing, standing mute as he watched over the little shih tzu, in the soft sunlight of afternoon, almost displaced by the simple purity and love radiating from the sparkling.

**Title: Discord**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: A shadow returns...**

It wasn't hard to undo the lock.

Three astroseconds and the bolt was undone; another five to step inside and check that the security alarms were disabled. It was all so... simple. Making a face at how childishly easy this all was, the mech strode casually through the kitchen, heading for the fridge. He promptly opened it up, browsing its contents quickly, his red visor flashing in delight at all the delectable dishes within. Quickly, green fingers grabbed various things; popping them into his mouth with a satisfied slurp, grabbing the milk container last and drinking straight from the jug.

The suburbs: so graciously stacked with goods... and so beautifully empty during the orns. It was perfect hunting grounds for mechs like him.

A thump echoed softly upstairs. Helm turned up to the ceiling, the stranger smirked viciously, putting the milk back into the fridge and sneaking through the house and to the staircase. Yes, perfect hunting grounds indeed, especially if there was a housewife or two left by their lonesome for him to... satisfy other urges. His tail swept back and forth in anticipation as he reached the second landing, striding predatorily down the hallway to where he smelled a sweet scent. It moistened his taste buds with its delicious aroma, but something nagged faintly at the back of his processor.

The scent seemed almost familiar...

The doorknob was turning as he neared the last door in the hallway. Grinning, he waited and watched as his unsuspecting victim opened the door. Humming met his audios first before white filled his vision; broken only by brilliant, blue optics that flashed as they turned and caught sight of the intruder.

"V-vortex...?"

The lynx pounced at the sound of his name, knocking Fireflight to the floor and pinning him there. "Fireflight," he purred, nudging open the shih tzu's thighs with one knee as he lowered his face to the sparkling. "What a pleasant surprise... I was just thinking how delicious you smelled."

A hot glossa snaked out, licking at the autodog's neck cables, causing Fireflight to gasp and writhe. "W-wait... Vortex!," he whimpered, bucking up when Vortex nipped him. The lynx growled slightly at the plea.

"But precious, lil' snowflake," he cooed, pulling back an inch and staring hypnotically down into the other's large, puzzled optics, "I haven't seen you in forever it seems. Where did you run off to, hmm? And what is a cutie like yourself doing here?" A servo slid down his waist, unzipping his pants before it slithered up Fireflight's shirt, pawing hungrily at the sparkling's plating. Fireflight only moaned as the kittycon ground down into him, little servos pushing and pulling at the kittycon's shirt.

"I feel like you were almost gift-wrapped for me. Here I am, aching for some company... and there you are, smelling sweet and looking just as scrumptious as the last time I saw you. I bet you're just as wet and tender in that filthy, lil' va-"

The sound of a bornling whimpering interrupted the lynx. His grip gone slack, Fireflight wriggled out from under the frozen Vortex, heading back into the room he had just been leaving only kliks before. The kittycon watched as the shih tzu hurried across the nursery, heading directly to the crib where a tiny bornling lay on its back; tiny paws waving in the air for its carrier.

"It's okay, Bedo," Fireflight hushed gently, reaching inside and pulling the mechling out, "It's alright. Mommy's here now."

The hybrid gave one last, little whimper before calming as he was cradled in his carrier's arms. Smiling as Breakdown slipped easily back into recharge, Fireflight remembered that Vortex had come to see him. Beaming in joy, he turned to the door. "Vortex, I wa-"

The rest of his words tumbled off his glossa silently, finding that no kittycon stood in the doorway. In fact, there was no sign whatsoever that Vortex had even been there to begin with. Optics dimming, Fireflight walked to the little rocking chair set in one corner of the nursery, humming Breakdown a lullaby to fill the silence.

**Title: Disgust**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: He does not approve of this new discovery**

This couldn't be happening. A red visor glowed angrily in the tree, highlighting the leaves with its bloody light momentarily, before dimming once again. Hunched over and perched like a bird of prey, Vortex peered through the branches at the little autodog padding around the nursery not too far away from him.

Alright, he recalled, he'd grown tired of Fireflight. The mere thought of the sparkling had disgusted him at the time that he'd made his decision, so he'd tossed him aside without a second thought. He hadn't expected on the orn he'd rediscovered the shih tzu, to both be lusting for Fireflight again and to find out about the nasty little bonus waiting for him.

A _bornling_...

The lynx's upper lip component curled contemptuously; his fists clenching the bark tightly as he watched Fireflight finish changing the hybrid, before rubbing olfactory sensors with the slagging thing. Slaggit... they even _giggled_ together.

This was not what he would have had expected to happen, if Vortex could even bother to think how things might have played out, and he certainly wasn't impressed with the results. Every single moment of Fireflight's orn, every thought, every smile, every bit of his time and joy -given, no, _poured_ , on that weak, pathetic little scraplet. Fireflight was _his_ , a part of him snarled viciously, and yet that slagging freak had to steal all of the shih tzu's attention.

Vortex resolutely pushed aside the fact that the spawn was also his own. He felt no connection to the brat and would have no qualms about drowning him the first chance he got. But how to do it...

The kittycon leaned back on the branch, seething in jealousy as he continued to watch Fireflight through the window across from him -scheming and plotting away, trying to work around this new obstacle in his path.

**Title: Fright**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: He gets a horrible scare**

Breakdown cooed as Fireflight changed his diaper. Giggling brightly, the shih tzu rubbed olfactory sensors with his son, smiling warmly as the hybrid grabbed his cheekplates with his tiny servos. "Mommy loves you too, Bedo," he said, kissing the bornling quickly before scooping Breakdown up and crossing the room for his crib. He spun gently, humming a merry tune, to the delight of his son.

"Come now; it's time for a nap," Fireflight announced, laying Breakdown in his crib. Purple optics peered up at him sadly, arms waving, wanting to be held longer. The autodog smiled wryly at the gesture. "No, no, no Bedo. You have to go to sleep -it's important you take your nappy. Otherwise you'll be too tired for your walk later."

The hybrid seemed to pout at these words. Fireflight giggled again, grabbing the bornling's blanket and covering his tiny frame with it. "Oh!," the shih tzu exclaimed in surprise, "Oh no, Bedo! Your dolly's not here... It must still be in the bathroom. Mommy will be right back."

Kissing Breakdown's helm, he quickly turned around and skipped from the room to gather the bornling's plushie. Finding the little insect-shaped doll by the bathroom sink -a gift from Air Raid- Fireflight paused, holding the plushie in his servos while his thoughts wandered.

...He missed Vortex...

The sparkling had been missing him for months, but the ache in his spark had grown since the last couple orns, when the lynx had surprised him within his own home. Why had Vortex left so quickly? Why didn't he stay? Questions, hundreds, millions of them, swarmed his processor; choking the autodog with their lack of answers and tightening around his frail spark like a giant claw with the doubts that they created.

"...w-where... where are you, Vortex?," the shih tzu whimpered softly to himself, "W-why don't you come b-back?"

Pushing all the tears and dark thoughts aside for the moment, Fireflight lifted his helm, padding back for the nursery with a smile on his face. "Breakdown, mommy's- B-breakdown?!," Fireflight cried in alarm, walking into the room only to find the crib overturned and the bornling nowhere in sight.

Dropping the doll, the autodog ran across the room, moving the crib and throwing the blanket aside in a frenzy, hiccuping and wheezing as it became more and more obvious that the hybrid was gone. "B-breakdown!" Crumbling to his knees, the sparkling slowly curled towards the floor while his servos lifted towards his flooding optics, a little whimper escaping him. "N-not... not my B-bedo too... p-please... I-i..."

A distressed whimper echoed loudly in the room, but Fireflight realized that it hadn't come from him. Whipping his helm up and about in confusion, the shih tzu was surprised to find Breakdown sitting in the doorway of the room, reaching out for his carrier desperately. Gasping in overwhelming relief, Fireflight quickly scrambled up and across the room, picking the hybrid up and hugging him tightly to his chassis.

"B-breakdown... o-oh, Breakdown...," he sobbed, unable to keep the tears back any longer, "I-i thought... H-how did y-you...? Oh, o-oh... I-i'm so g-glad you're o-okay. M-mommy c-couldn't t-take it i-if y-you disappeared t-too..."

The bornling whimpered and sniffled, clutching tightly to Fireflight, trying to bury himself deeper in his carrier's arms. Slightly confused, the white mech still welcomed the harsh snuggling, humming and rocking the both of them back and forth as he placed butterfly kisses all over Breakdown's helm. Fireflight did not see the flash of red that glowed dimly from the shadowy doorway of Air Raid's room, nor the gentle whisper of motion as a part of the shadows turned and faded away.

**Title: Return**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: Fireflight gets a guest**

It was a bright and beautiful orn, so Fireflight was outside with Breakdown, trying to roll a ball back and forth with the bornling. Breakdown seemed interested enough in the game, but he kept falling forward each time he tried to push the ball back to his carrier, his face landing in the soft grass and causing him to whimper at every attempt. Trying not to giggle, the shih tzu picked the hybrid back up, kissing his cheekplates and rubbing olfactory sensors with his son to cheer him up.

"It's okay, Bedo. You'll get the hang of it eventually." At his words, Breakdown gurgled contently, nuzzling his carrier. Fireflight returned the affection ten-fold. "Hey," he whispered sweetly, looking into the bornling's optics, "You wanna-"

Rustling behind him interrupted the autodog before he could finish his question. Turning around quickly, Fireflight watched as a familiar lynx leaned out from the bushes, smug grin on his face as he licked icing off of his fingers. "Hello snowflake," Vortex purred, his visor dimming as it fixed entirely on the sparkling, "There was a birthday party a few houses down from you; had some sweet cake. But nothing as sweet as you."

"H-hi Vortex...," Fireflight mumbled back in reply, his arms tightening just a tad around Breakdown in his nervousness. The bornling clutched to his carrier, tears filling his optics quickly before he half-buried his face in the shih tzu's chestplates; hiding from the kittycon. Recalling that his was a perfect opportunity to finally introduce Breakdown to Vortex, Fireflight turned a little more, trying to get the hybrid to look at the lynx. "T-this... this is Breakdown, Vortex," the white mech shyly smiled, "He's o-our-"

" _Son_ ," came Vortex's flat reply. "Yes... I've _heard_."

The shih tzu couldn't help but to cock his helm at that. "How?," he asked, confused. "I wanted to go see you, since your daddy lives so close now... but you weren't there. No one will tell me where you are a-and..." Fireflight paused, shuttering his optics quickly to push the tears back. "Wh-where have you been, Vortex? Are you okay?"

The lynx was silent for an astrosecond. "Oh, I've been around," he smirked. He winced, momentarily, for some unknown reason, before he slowly started to reach for Fireflight. "In fact, I've..." Fireflight squeaked in surprise, quickly rolling him and Breakdown out of the way when the grey mech suddenly collapsed, hitting the ground with a heavy thud.

Petting Breakdown's helm to reassure the distressed bornling, the autodog slowly inched towards Vortex; kneeling at his side and roughly shaking the kittycon when he did not respond after a few astroseconds. "V-vortex? Vortex, a-are you alright?!" Fireflight eventually rolled him over, feeling along Vortex's neck cables, trying to find a pulse like the actors on t.v did. He got lucky; the lynx's pulse thrumming softly against his fingertips sluggishly.

Concerned, the sparkling studied his unconscious friend, noticing for the first time that Vortex did not look well. His visor had small fractures in it, mostly around the sides and there was a freshly-welded scar along his lip components. His plating seemed a little darker than usual and dinged pretty bad in some spots, and even his fur was slightly oily as Fireflight stroked the pointed ears. Overall, it looked like the kittycon had been in some pretty bad straits, and probably for a while.

"Did you not have a home Vortex? ...Is that why you look so bad?," Fireflight mumbled as he brushed his servos gently along the unconscious mech's cheekplates. A small, little whimper drew his attention; turning immediately, the autodog padded back to his bornling, scooping Breakdown up into his arms and shushing him as he slowly rocked the hybrid. "It's okay, Breakdown, it's alright. Daddy's going to be okay, he will be! L-let's... let's just get you back inside though, hmm? So mommy can try and get daddy in."

The hybrid mewled pitifully as he was deposited in his high chair in the kitchen and quickly left as his carrier hurried back out the door.

It took several kliks before Fireflight could even get Vortex to the kitchen door, most of which was just him panting and tugging weakly on the lynx's arm before he managed to drag him a few inches. Unable to pull him any further, the autodog eventually just gave up, running inside to wet a dish clothe and patting it gently along the kittycon's brow. Slowly, the red visor flickered back to life, a grey servo lashing up and grabbing his own.

"...Snowflake?," the low voice croaked uncertainly.

Fireflight tried not to look into Vortex's visor. "Y...you... you collapsed. I d-didn't... I mean, y-you look like you've b-been hurt a-and... and I w-wanted to h-help you so y-you'd feel bet-"

There was the flash of a sinister grin, before Fireflight found his lip components smashed into a hungry kiss; servos grabbing onto the kittycon's sweater as Vortex sat up and yanked him forwards. Swooning, the autodog whined softly, shuttering his optics dazedly as the lynx slowly pulled away; grinning still.

"Thank you for your kind words, snowflake," Vortex husked, mouthing the words barely against the sparkling's lip components. "Maybe I'll get you to make me feel better another time..."

Chuckling lowly, the kittycon then slipped away, disappearing over a fence, leaving a stunned and heavily blushing Fireflight sitting on the kitchen doorstep.

**Title: Bath**   
**Rating: M**   
**Summary: The third times the charm**

It was warm in the bathroom. Steam from earlier still clung to the mirrors and tiles, making the air a little thicker, but not uncomfortable to breathe. The lights seemed a tad dimmer, though they still glared warmly, and the lavender scent of the bubble bath formula combined to make a calm and relaxing setting.

Enjoying himself the rare moment, was Fireflight, who was currently piling the mountain of soap bubbles into vague castles, humming merrily while he did. There was a gentle creak behind him before a cool draft of air brushed chillingly across the shih tzu's shoulder plating. A shadow fell over him next.

"My, my, my... Enjoying yourself are we, snowflake?"

"V-vortex!," Fireflight gasped in surprise, twisting in the tub quickly to face the lynx. A red visor flashed brightly, that familiar grin quick to curl on the other's lip components. Shyly, the sparkling sank a little deeper into the water, blushing as he glanced away from Vortex. "I-i... I didn't k-know that you were c-coming ba-back...," he whispered.

"But of course," the kittycon purred, squatting by the tub's side; a servo dipping into the water and slowly stirring the bubbles. "I thought I'd pop in and check up on you, while your brothers and the little... one... were downstairs, watching t.v."

The fingers touched his thigh beneath the water and Fireflight couldn't help the little flinch he gave.

"Why do you ask...? Did you not want to see me?" Vortex's tone had gone a touch lower. The sparkling quickly looked up at the grey mech, reaching out with one servo and touching the kittycon's cheekplate gently.

"V-vortex... you, y-you don't look w-well," the shih tzu noted, looking deeply into the dimming visor. "D-do... do you w-want to take a bath? I-it'll make you f-feel better!"

The lynx was unresponsive for a couple astroseconds before that unholy smirk bloomed across his face. Feeling shivers run down his backstruts, the autodog pushed himself to the far side of the tub, optics down; listening as the older 'bot purred contently while stripping off his clothes before sinking into the tub alongside the sparkling.

"Thank you for the offer, snowflake," Vortex said, looming over Fireflight, starting to press the shih tzu into the side of the large basin. "Such a brilliant, perfect idea..."

Fireflight did not reply, only gasping instead as his legs were spread open, winding around Vortex's waist as he pressed closer, due to the constricting curves of the tub. He struggled to keep his optics online, fingers scrabbling down the lynx's plating, catching suddenly in a dent. "Y-you're... you're hurt!," the sparkling whimpered, both servos lifting and cupping Vortex's face as he peered up at the lynx, his optics glazed with coolant. "H-how?! Why?"

He spared a moment to glance back down at Vortex's chassis, sniffling at the spread of dents and scratches -old and new wounds that still weren't fully healed yet. "I-i'm so sorry that I had to go away, Vortex!," Fireflight sobbed, throwing his arms around the lynx's neck cables and burying his face there. "I-i didn't w-want to, b-but my brothers s-said I had to! N-now I c-come back, b-but you're ne-never home a-and y-you're h-hurt really bad a-and I'm s-sorry because i-it has to b-be all my fault a-and-"

The frozen kittycon slowly jumped into action, pulling Fireflight off and pinning him to the side of the tub. His red visor burned into the sparkling's optics; his lip components a flat, expressionless line. "Say it...," the grey mech commanded lowly, "Tell me why."

Fireflight broke off optic contact quickly, glancing down between their frames, his little mouth open in slight hesitance. For some reason, Vortex decided to follow the autodog's line of sight... and felt his systems crash to a stop as he saw the white plating retracted; small spike and valve visible beneath the water.

"I-i... I missed you so m-much... I m-missed your t-touching, and y-your smiles, a-and h-how nice i-it felt when you h-hold me...," the soft voice confessed shyly, "...I t-tried not t-to be sad th-though, b-because I-i knew y-you'd come back... b-because I-i love y-you and you-"

That was it.

That's what he wanted to hear.

Snarling in triumph, Vortex cut off the rest of the Fireflight's words as he swooped in for a bruising kiss; his plating hissing softly as it drew back, letting his aching spike free from its confines. Even on the edge of younglinghood, there was still a brightness, an optimism, a naivety and strong, child-like innocence that filled the shih tzu, contrasting against everything he had already gone through. And that _hesitance_... Oh, Primus! The only thing that made all of this better was how _tight_ and _wet_ Fireflight felt as he slid inside the waiting valve; not to mention the delicious little response the sparkling gave, as if this was his first time altogether.

Perfect, Vortex wanted to growl, as he got his bearings on the slippery tub, rocking up to his usual pace. Absolutely perfect, that's what Fireflight was. His perpetual virgin. He'd chosen the kittycon as well, the foolish, unknowing little pup...

The grey mech grinned as Fireflight gasped loudly, his glossa sliding into the sparkling's mouth and rolling wildly there, muffling any and all sounds the autodog might make. And with how hard Vortex was starting to pound into Fireflight now, loud noises were certainly going to follow.

"Mmm... mine," the lynx purred against Fireflight's mouth, shivering in delight when the tight valve squeezed him hard, "All _mine_..."


	27. Silverbolt IV

**Title: Off Course**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: Iacon is more overwhelming than he thought**

"Oh for Primus' sake... I got lost again..."

The mech stopped on the corner, turning his helm this way and that in confusion. All he saw were dozens of brightly-coloured, mismatched signs, all declaring some sort of important message or tourist gimmick. None though were at all helpful to him. Huffing, the autodog tried to politely catch a passerby's attention -but one glance at the karelian had the other 'bots stepping back in fright before hurrying on their way entirely.

"W-wait! I only was just-"

Trailbreaker sighed, dropping his helm. If his Auntie could see him now, she would only waggle her finger and tell him in that scolding tone of hers, _"See? What did I say about foolish? Rushing off to a far away city that you only just heard that mech talk about once before... It's a reckless thing, I'm telling you! It's sure to prompt only further trouble!"_

The autodog tried not to sigh again. He didn't want to say Moonracer was right when she had argued with him about leaving... but what else was he to do? He no knew other way of finding Silverbolt, and the karelian desperately needed to see the shih tzu again.

When Silverbolt had suddenly up and left with his family... Oh, the gossip that had flown around the town could choke a 'bot. It was the biggest scandal Yuss had ever seen. A kittycon, storming into their town, making a claim to the blue shih tzu; revealing a fourth, small and white shih tzu as he and Silverbolt had butted helms in the middle of the street. It was too much for the old wives to take. They spewed hundreds of hateful, trashing comments about the shih tzu family, using this unexpected turn of events as confirmation to everything negative they had ever thought about the new-comers.

Trailbreaker was sad to admit that such provoking gossip had forced him to tuck away all thoughts and feelings for Silverbolt. He'd pushed himself to get on with his life, falling back on his old routine, before the karelian had woken up one orn and realized he couldn't do it. He couldn't go back to smiling and being happy in his little farm-country town; couldn't work, orn in and orn out, content with the simplicity of his life while he entertained faint fantasies about finding a nice femme and settling down...

His fantasies of settling down didn't involve a sweet, soft-spoken femme. They didn't include hay rolls, or long cornfields, or even the dock down by Shepherd's lake, where lilies sometimes grew. Everything that Trailbreaker had ever wished for -whether constantly or even fleetingly- could be found in the one mech that had entered his life so abruptly... and left it just as fast...

…..and now he had gone off and gotten lost in this big, winding city while trying to find that one shih tzu...

Great...

"Now how am I supposed to get to city hall," Trailbreaker mumbled to himself, lifting his crumpled and ragged map up to his face. "I thought if I just-"

"Hey," a flat voice cut off his confused musings. Turning, the grey mech found himself facing a slender, red autodog. He recognized him immediately as Silverbolt's younger brother. At the sight of the shih tzu (standing there languidly, one servo slipped in his jean's pocket; the other holding onto the strap of his backpack as he slung it over one shoulder) and his blank expression, Trailbreaker shuffled back a step, shifting his dufflebag.

"N-now, I, uh," he hurried to explain, attempting to keep the panic out of his vocalizer, but not succeeding much, "I k-know what this l-looks like, a-and I s-swear, I-"

"You're here to find Silverbolt. Right?," the youngling interrupted. Trailbreaker didn't know what to say. "Well," the red mech continued, starting to turn around, "Come on then."

It took a moment for the older autodog to realize that he was being told to follow. Leaping into action as he clued in, Trailbreaker grabbed his dufflebag's strap tightly, hurrying after the shih tzu starting to weave into the crowd.

**Title: The unexpected guest**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: There's a stranger in his house**

"Air Raid," Silverbolt said, opening the kitchen door. He made a small sound as the bags of groceries he carried started to tip, pushing his cheekplate into the load to keep it steady. "Air Raid, could you give me some help, please? I-"

He heard someone push out of the kitchen chair, walking across the room and taking the bags from him just as they started to slip again. "Thank yo-" The rest of Silverbolt's words morphed into a squeak as he turned his helm to thank his brother, finding instead a large karelian smiling at him nervously. Frightened, the shih tzu dropped his keys, slamming back against the wall.

"W-what... w-what a-are you-?!"

Trailbreaker frantically put the groceries on the nearest counter, holding his servos up submissively as he turned his attention back to the other mech. "D-don't s-scream, p-please Silverbolt!," he begged, "I-i'm sorry, I-i just-"

"I found him wandering around downtown," a voice cut in blandly, "He wanted to see you."

Silverbolt snapped his helm to the doorway, feeling a stab of betrayal echo in his spark. "A-air Raid...," he scowled at the youngling leaning against the door frame, sipping casually at a soda. "H-how could you bring him here?! What were you thinking? If-" The oldest shih tzu cut himself off, glancing up at the ceiling worriedly.

"He already knows, 'Bolt," Air Raid said.

Silverbolt's optics flared in horror at that. Turning his attention back to the karelian, the smaller autodog was unnerved to find Trailbreaker nod back to him in confirmation. "... e-excuse us," he said tersely, pushing past the grey mech and heading for Air Raid. Silverbolt grabbed the youngling's arm, yanking him out of the kitchen and down the hall.

"Are you out of your mind?!," he hissed once they were in the living room.

Air Raid shook himself free of Silverbolt's grasp, scowling up at the older mech. "No. And I don't care for you questioning my insanity."

"Well, I wouldn't have to if you weren't bringing random mechs off the street back home!," Silverbolt shot back. "Air Raid, he -how could you tell him about Fireflight?! Or anything else for that matter! Don't you remember that this was supposed to be a secret?!"

"What are you afraid of, 'Bolt?," the red shih tzu retorted. "It's been weeks since we moved here and, despite your beliefs, no one's coming storm in to take Fireflight away from us. Thanks to that Onslaught guy, we finally have a chance to be happy... settle down... I can tell you, Fireflight's never been more ecstatic than now, where he's got the chance to go out and walk freely with Breakdown. And you know what, no one questions it, because he's not living like he's got a dirty secret to keep."

"Th-that... That s-still doesn't make you bringing him here e-excusable!," the multi-coloured autodog stammered in objection. "H-he-"

Air Raid sighed loudly and exasperatedly, shaking his helm. Stunned by the response, Silverbolt fell quiet, staring sullenly at his younger brother. "Would you listen to yourself, 'Bolt?," Air Raid asked. "You're acting like Trailbreaker has this personal vendetta against you, when the guy's been nothing but nice to you the entire time we were out in Yuss. I mean, the slagging country mutt even came all the way out here, to find you again. And judging by his bag, I don't quite think he's planning on going back..."

This was news to the older shih tzu. Confused and just a little uneasy still, Silverbolt tried to rationalize what the youngling had just said to him, but the only thing that came out was, "...h-how did you know he was nice to me?"

Immediately, the red shih tzu looked guilty. "Because I was the one that was mean to him, and got him to stop talking to you...," he confessed lowly. "I didn't... I mean, I... I was just worried about Fireflight back then," he continued, "And I was afraid too. Afraid of having any more stuff happen after Skydive took off to Iacon..."

Silverbolt sank onto the couch in disbelief.

"I-i'm sorry, Silverbolt," Air Raid apologized, looking up at his brother with contrite optics, "Really, I am. I never thought that the mech would come all the way out here though to see you again, but once I saw him, I knew that I had to bring him here. For once, there was another 'bot that actually cared about you, outside of us. I thought... you deserved to be happy too, Silverbolt..."

The other autodog was still silent. Staring down at the floor, Silverbolt tried to make sense of everything that he had just been told; everything that he was feeling that very moment. The only thing that was clear was that he was... afraid. So scared, even amongst that tiny flicker of hope. The bigger shih tzu startled when he felt a servo rest on his shoulder plating suddenly; looking up, he was surprised to see Air Raid smiling down at him sympathetically.

"You should go talk to him before you send him away, at least," the youngling instructed.

Nodding mutely, the multi-coloured mech rose to his pedes, walking back to the kitchen slowly. Trailbreaker had resumed sitting at the kitchen table in his absence; wringing his servos together anxiously and glancing at the kitchen door frequently. Noticing the other autodog standing in the doorway, the karelian straightened up in his seat tensely, servos curling into fists on the table top. Even despite his nervousness, Trailbreaker offered a small, trepid smile to the shih tzu.

Immediately, Silverbolt started warming at the tiny gesture. Cupping his servos before himself, the shih tzu smiled back kindly, stepping into the kitchen.

**Title: Restless**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: He feels out of place**

Stay for a few orns...

That's what Silverbolt had suggested. Enough time to discuss more and plenty of time to allow the karelian to rest and decide what he wanted to do next.

Trailbreaker didn't know if he liked this arrangement. Lying in berth, staring up at the dark ceiling, the autodog couldn't help but wonder if he was pushing himself on the shih tzu and his family. Silverbolt's reaction had been anything but pleasant initially, and even though the rest of the afternoon had been spent in peaceful discussion, the karelian couldn't help but feel he was creating a sort of tension in this household.

Maybe he should just leave...

Venting softly, Trailbreaker pushed himself out bed, getting to his pedes and grabbing his things. He changed out of the old pajamas Silverbolt had been kind to offer him, folding them neatly and setting them on the berth, before he changed into his clothes from earlier that orn. He was just tip-toeing down the stairs and to the front door when he heard a sound in the kitchen.

Concerned, the autodog changed direction.

He only caught a glimpse of a dark shadow leaping out the window, before it was gone entirely, leaving a lone shih tzu standing in the middle of the kitchen. "...F-fireflight?," Trailbreaker called softly.

The sparkling turned slowly to the doorway, smiling sweetly as he clutched a bottle to his chestplates. "Hello," he whispered back, "Is everything okay, Mr. Trailbreaker?"

Having just found out about the sparkling recently, the karelian was still adjusting to Fireflight's presence. Words could not describe how sorry and anxious he felt around the sparkling, having been told the circumstances behind why the family of shih tzus had come to Yuss in the first place. But even despite his feelings on the matter, Fireflight seemed content -almost happy even- and his love for his new bornling was almost miraculous as it was touching.

"U-umm...," his gaze wandered back to the open window; brow furrowing uneasily at the implications, "Yeah... fine..."

"Then why do you want to leave?"

The sad question cut into the older autodog's musings. Shuttering his optics in shock, Trailbreaker turned his attention back to the sparkling, finding that Fireflight had padded closer while he'd been distracted; looking up at him with concerned, blue optics.

"I-i, uh..." He couldn't even offer an excuse. The dufflebag slung over his shoulder plating kind of made the option useless and the karelian was not about to lie to the sparkling. Venting softly, Trailbreaker knelt to be more level with Fireflight, smiling sadly at the shih tzu.

"I'm sorry, lil' one. I just don't feel like I belong here...," he answered. "I feel like I'm being nothing but a bother to your big brother."

Fireflight shook his helm kindly, touching Trailbreaker's cheekplate. "No," he smiled, "Silvy doesn't find you a bother at all, but I know he'll be sad if you go. Stay a little bit longer, please? You'll always feel like you don't belong at first, but, if you run away all the time... then you'll never get the chance to find your place."

Out of the mouth's of babes, his Auntie used to say...

Stunned and overwhelmed by the kind words Fireflight had so wisely shared with him, Trailbreaker couldn't help but to tear up a little. Knowing that he might actually be wanted here took such a heavy load off of his shoulders; more than he'd realized he'd been carrying all this time. Clearing his vocalizer a bit, the dark autodog straightened up, smiling down on the sparkling. "I think," he began, "We should both head back to bed."

Giggling softly, Fireflight grabbed the karelian's servo. Surprised, but welcome to the touch, Trailbreaker curled his fingers around the tiny servo in his palm; turning and leading the both of them up the dark hallway and to the stairs.

**Title: Requests**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: Skydive wants to help in his little ways**

"Who?," Onslaught asked, accepting the mug from Skydive. The shih tzu sighed, shaking his helm slightly.

"Trailbreaker," he repeated, "He's an autodog from Yuss. The town we had run off to."

"Ah, yes...," the serval replied lowly. He glared sullenly at the wall. "I remember well."

Cringing a little, Skydive immediately turned back to Onslaught, stroking his lowered ears apologetically. The kittycon accepted his silent gesture completely, gently tugging the autodog closer and encouraging him to sit on his lap. Skydive did so gladly, leaning back and laying against Onslaught's chestplates as a large servo cupped and rubbed his bulging belly softly.

"And you say he's looking for work?," the serval rumbled gently from above.

Skydive took a moment to snuggle back into his bondmate more. "Yes," he replied. "Air Raid said that he came all the way out here, specifically for Silverbolt. We believe he might love our brother. But in order for him to stay... he needs a job. And unfortunately, he's not very familiar with the city or even how to go about applying for new work."

"He came out here, looking for your brother?"

"Mhmm," the shih tzu sighed back, comfortably, "All the way from Yuss. I remember him only faintly... He was kind. Silverbolt deserves someone like him."

Onslaught cuddled Skydive closer, still stroking the smaller mech's plating. "Ah...," he hummed. "So you're all playing match-maker then for your brother."

Skydive giggled. "Not quite. But... Silverbolt has always taken care of us. He's never done anything for himself all these years. For once, I'd like someone to want to take care of him, equally. Someone other than us. He's more than worthy enough for such a thing."

The serval smiled, kissing the top of Skydive's helm. "Of course," he smirked, hearing a pleasant, little rumble escape the shih tzu. "I'll see what I can do and talk to the pup myself."

Skydive snuggled into Onslaught harder, optics shuttering sleepily as he dipped his helm under the kittycon's chin. "Thank you, Onslaught... Love you..."

Onslaught reclined easily in his seat, holding the shih tzu safe in his arms as he started to drift off into recharge. "I love you too, Skydive," he smiled softly.

**Title: Starting Over**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: Trailbreaker has something to say**

Silverbolt was just starting to set the table for dinner when he heard the front door open. "Hello?," he called out, setting down the silverware temporarily as he walked around the room to see who had just entered. His curious optics were met with Trailbreaker and Fireflight standing in the doorway, taking off their coats and hanging them in the closet.

"Hello, Silvy!," his brother chirped sweetly, noticing the older shih tzu. "Me and Bedo were just taking a walk when we bumped into Trailbreaker. So we decided to walk home together!"

"Y-yes... I can see that," Silverbolt tried to smile. He cleared his vocalizer softly, before folding his servos before himself. "Fireflight, why don't you take Breakdown upstairs and wash up for dinner? And could you tell your brothers to do the same, please?"

"Okay," the smaller shih tzu beamed, turning and accepting Breakdown from Trailbreaker; who had unbuckled the bornling from his stroller and was now folding it up to put away. Silverbolt stood watching a moment longer until he was certain that Fireflight had reached the top of the stairs, before he turned and walked back into the dining room.

He could hear Trailbreaker follow after a moment.

"...you were gone pretty early this morning," Silverbolt stated neutrally, grabbing the abandoned silverware and continuing from where he had left off.

"U-umm... yeah..." The karelian shifted nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "U-umm... Silverbolt? M-may I... may I talk to y-ya?"

The shih tzu resolutely remained focused only on the table. "You're doing so now, aren't you?," was his crisp reply.

Trailbreaker smiled despite the cutting words, taking no insult from them. "I suppose that ya're right. But I was talking more in a private sense..." Silverbolt glanced up at that. "See, ya've been real kind and all to me, letting me stay for the past week and such... But I get the feeling that ya don't really like my presence here."

The shorter autodog jolted at that. "T-that's... that's not true," he mumbled in protest.

The dark autodog slowly circled the room, bending to catch Silverbolt's gaze. The other mech glared slightly, servos pressing flatly to the table top as he turned his helm up to Trailbreaker. "Trailbreaker, what are you-"

"Ya see...," the karelian interrupted softly, "I think ya feel as if I've been imposing on your life. Oh, I know we talked and all that, Silv', but... but I don't really think we talked about why I even came out all the way here. And, mayhaps, I think ya're feeling unsure about me, since lil' Fireflight and Breakdown's taken a bit of a shine to me."

Silverbolt did not reply to that, only glaring a bit more. He did not want to confess that, though being alright with Trailbreaker's presence in the beginning, he'd started to grow uneasy the longer the bigger autodog was around his little brother. Fireflight had this horrible habit of getting attached to strangers so easily, but it had been more surprising to see Breakdown warm up to Trailbreaker. The bornling usually fussed more and did not like being in the company of others for long. He was especially more vocal if anyone other than Fireflight held him for too long.

He couldn't say what it was that made him feel this way, but Silverbolt didn't like it. It seemed everyone was easily accepting Trailbreaker into their lives, falling into a routine that almost made it feel like the karelian could have always been with them.

…..he didn't like it...

His ears perked a bit as Trailbreaker set something down on the table top; moving his servo back, revealing the item to be a small, worn ring box. Immediately, his spark lurched. "When I had come here, I had hoped and prayed that I would find ya," the other mech started softly, "But I had not actually expected to be practically led to your door. I told myself, there would be a lot of things I would do to make up for my behaviour during your final days in Yuss. The first would be to apologize to ya."

Trailbreaker chuckled momentarily. "My Auntie told me I was being foolish... but I had to come anyways. Ya see, I realized that I'd come to love ya -I wanted to be with ya. And if that meant leaving behind everything I knew before, to learn more about ya... Well," Trailbreaker smiled, "I didn't see how such a chance was not worth the sacrifice."

Silverbolt still had not said anything. His flared optics were glued to the table, where the ring box sat; his ears taking in every word that the other autodog was saying, making his spark whirl faster and faster.

"What I never expected though," the karelian continued, "Was to be welcomed so much. I mean, I was a stranger... but your family's been really nice to me, even after everything that ya've all experienced. I... Primus, ya're a strong bunch. The strongest I've ever seen. ….Which is why I'll be moving out."

That finally caught his attention. "W-what?!," Silverbolt gaped, snapping his helm up to the other autodog. He refused to acknowledge that his optics were beginning to glaze over. "W-why are you -I d-don't-"

Trailbreaker smiled, picking up the ring box and slipping it back into his pocket again. "It's because I'd like to start over again. I want to be able to court ya, now that ya're aware of my intentions, and if I stay here, I'd only be pressuring ya. I got hired today at the construction company, and I've even found an apartment... From here on out, I won't be a burden to ya or anyone else. And if ya choose to see me after tonight, it will be of your own free will. As it should be."

"Y-you're..." You're stupid. You're amazing. You're unbelievable. You're so wonderful to me.

Everything that Silverbolt wanted to say, everything that struck him just then when the other autodog had made that statement, tripped on his glossa, refusing to come out even despite how desperately his spark wished it too. Cycling a quick intake to push back his rising tears, the multi-coloured mech smiled, overwhelmed by how kind Trailbreaker was, even now.

"Well then," he replied, clearing his vocalizer a little. Silverbolt raised his servo, holding it out over the table top. "Hi. My name's Silverbolt. I have four brothers, two of whom are parents, and three that still look to me for support. I don't have a job, unless you count constant parenthood as one, and not a lot of free time. But all the same, I'm looking for a friend."

Shuttering his optics in shock momentarily, Trailbreaker quickly caught on to what the shih tzu was doing, and the grin that split his face just then and there could have rivaled the sun. "Hello Silverbolt," he said, warm laughter in his tone as he reached across the table and clasped the waiting servo. "My name's Trailbreaker, and I come from a small country town called Yuss, where the cows are plenty and silly old traditions sometimes get in the way of a good thing. I, too, am looking for a friend and more, and I pray that ya'll be the one for me."

Silverbolt chuckled lightly as they shook servos. "I hope your prayers are answered, Trailbreaker," he wished sweetly, with all the sincerity and affection in his spark.


	28. Air Raid

**Title: Air Raid**   
**Rating: T**

It wasn't fair.

Air Raid watched as Slingshot stormed into the room, throwing his backpack to the berthroom floor before tossing himself down onto his berth. The other shih tzu glanced uncertainly at his brother, wondering if he should even bother asking exactly what had upset the volatile autodog this time or wait until Slingshot started ranting himself.

He was saved from his concerns though when the other mech started his angry tirade. "That stupid fragging teacher came me an 'F'! Said that my entire paper was a slagging mockery. Missed the fragging point of the stupid book..."

Air Raid smiled wryly, setting down his video game to listen to his brother. He didn't bother pointing out to Slingshot that he wasn't supposed to be swearing -Silverbolt didn't want Fireflight to start picking up the language- instead, happy that the other shih tzu was ranting to him. Granted, Slingshot would probably rant to anyone... whether they wanted to listen or not. As the younger autodog's grumbling turned into full out snarling, Air Raid allowed himself to slip back into his thoughts; giving attentive nods and hums of response to show that he was still listening.

It wasn't fair, he mused sadly again, his optics fixed to rapidly moving lip components. Fireflight had his half-crush, half-sexual predator; even Silverbolt was being courted by the kind mech Trailbreaker and Skydive was infatuated with Vortex's sire, Onslaught. Their feelings could never be rejected. And even if they were, at least they'd never be wrong...

Why then, Air Raid bemoaned silently, why then did the universe set him up so horribly this way?

The shih tzu shook his head slightly, trying to draw out of the blackness of his thoughts, but only managed to anger Slingshot with the subtle motion. "Are you saying that I'm a liar!," roared his younger brother. The grey mech jumped to his pedes, taking an aggressive stance before Air Raid.

Shuttering his optics in surprise, Air Raid attempted to soothe his upset sibling, but found himself frozen when passionate blue optics narrowed behind the other's visor. The way they shone -with such beautiful fire and indignation- sparked a thrill within the other shih tzu. Without a thought to what he was doing, Air Raid quickly lunged up to his pedes, cupping Slingshot's cheekplates as his lip components mashed against the other's hungrily.

He remembered exactly what he was doing, and who with, an astrosecond too late, when he felt Slingshot go rigid in his grasp. He was shoved away viciously before the older autodog could pull back on his own and apologize; the smaller mech turning and bolting from the room as Air Raid fell back to the floor hard, smacking his helm off the edge of one of the berths.

Blinking the tears out of his optics, the shih tzu slowly pushed himself back up, biting back on the whimper that wanted to escape him.

It wasn't fair...


	29. Air Raid and Slingshot

**Title: Dinner**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: Suddenly he realizes there's no going back**

This shouldn't be happening...

Air Raid looked up from his plate, noting with dim optics that Slingshot was still resolutely staring down at his own, shoveling back his meal without care or concern for the somewhat disapproving look Silverbolt was sending his way. Venting softly, the red mech returned his own gaze to his dinner, trying to swallow back another bite.

He hadn't meant to kiss Slingshot -had wanted to, yes, but he knew better than to do something like that with his volatile brother. It was because of one lacking moment of restraint that suddenly he was cut off from the younger shih tzu; brutally ignored, shunned and ostracized. Air Raid would give anything to have Slingshot talk to him again.

"I hear from Skydive that you have a girlfriend, Slingshot," Silverbolt began, smiling as he set down his fork for a moment. The red shih tzu froze. "Your brother tells me she's a lovely lil' femme, and that she seems quite enamoured with you."

Slingshot looked up from his plate, turning bored optics to the oldest autodog. "Yeah," he shrugged neutrally, "She seems that way."

Fireflight gasped in delight, clapping his servos together excitedly. "What's her name? Are you going to go on a date?," he asked, optics shimmering in joy. "Is she going to be like your princess, Slingshot?"

Silverbolt patted the sparkling's helm. "Her name is Rosanna, I heard, and she's very sweet. Skydive says she's very polite too."

"She wants to go to the movies," Slingshot informed dully as again their youngest brother gave a squeal of excitement, "I might need to borrow some money."

"Why of course, Slingshot," the older autodog replied. "And if you need a ride as well, I'd be glad to-"

"Excuse me," Air Raid quickly mumbled, rising to his pedes. He hurried from the table just as the rest of his family fell quiet at the unexpected interruption; missing the visor that slowly glanced at him as the red mech fled from the room.

**Title: Her**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: He can't help but hate her**

He watched from the window as Slingshot walked down the yard casually, meeting up with the petite femme that stood at the gate patiently. She threw her arms around his brother the moment he was close, saying something with a bright and joyful smile on her face. The grey mech patted her back with one servo, replying.

Fist strangling the curtains, Air Raid forced himself to step away from the window; the anger and jealousy that had been flowing through him just then disappearing as soon as he was out of view of his brother and his new botfriend, leaving only the anguish and sparkache. Crumpling onto the edge of his berth, the shih tzu choked on a sob, dropping his face into his knees as he hugged himself.

Why, he cried silently, why did Slingshot have to do this to him?

Why couldn't his brother just talk to him, let him apologize, instead of going around, blatantly rubbing it in his face that he had a botfriend now?

...why couldn't Slingshot just love him back...?

Spark withering in pain, Air Raid gasped brokenly into his legs, feeling tremors run up and down his frame as he wept over his brother's cruel rejection.

**Title: Rescue**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: He remembers their past**

They had made Slingshot go away.

A little shih tzu crawled through the bush, getting closer and closer to the little lean-to that tried pathetically to pass as a house. Wiping the grime from his face, a red helm peeked up from the branches, trying to peer through a grungy window into the home. This is the place that the System had sent Slingshot to.

Even as young as he was, Air Raid could see this was a bad place. No one should live here, especially not his younger brother. Seeing that no one was around, the sparkling grabbed the window's ledge, trying to yank it up. To his horror, it was nailed shut. Shuttering his optics uncertainly, the shih tzu dropped back down to the bushes, scrambling through the dirt and dark until his servos curled over a sharp rock.

Smiling in hope, the autodog returned to the window, digging the rock's sharp edges into the wood and under the nails' head; ripping them out one by one. It was hard and long work, made difficult by how rusted and deeply imbedded the nails were. At the end of it, the sparkling's servos were shaking and in pain, the tender palms a little torn up and leaking beads of energon.

Ignoring it for the time, Air Raid once again tried shoving the window frame up; breathing a sigh of relief when it gave after a spark-dropping moment, slowly grinding upwards. A little scurry of noise echoed from within the room at the sound of the window opening, a shadow picking itself up off the floor and shuffling uncertainly towards the light.

"Slings... Slings, it's me," the red autodog called out softly into the house, praying that none of the 'bots that took his brother heard. "It's me, Air Raid."

"A-ar... Ar-ra?," came the tiny whisper.

Air Raid nodded his helm rapidly, giving a little gasp of relief when he saw the younger autodog come into the light. He was concerned though with how tired and dirty Slingshot looked, not to mention battered, but he was alive and he wasn't bleeding (that he could see) and that's all that really mattered to Air Raid right then and there.

"Come on," he said quietly, shoving his arms into the room, "We're going to go back. Back to our brothers."

Slingshot looked at the older sparkling as if he didn't quite believe this was all happening, but something moved heavily further in the house and like a bolt of lightning, the grey shih tzu was running for his brother's arms. "A-ar-ra!," he gasped, tears flooding his optics as he was lifted out of the room and cradled close to his brother's chestplates. Slingshot threw his arms around Air Raid's neck, pressing his wet cheekplate against the other's.

"Y-you c-came for m-me..."

Air Raid hoisted Slingshot higher, quickly walking away from the house. "Of course, Slings," he mumbled quietly, kissing his brother's ear. "I'll always come back for you. Same with Silverbolt and Skydive. We're a family and we're going to stick together."

The smaller sparkling sniffled, nuzzling closer. "I...I love you, Ar-Ra. I want to b-be with you forever."

Optics flaring in surprise, Air Raid gazed down at his brother, watching fondly as the worn-out sparkling drifted off to slumber in his arms. Shifting Slingshot's weight again, the autodog continued on down the dark street, his spark rotating calmly now that his brother was with him.

**Title: Revelation**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: Slingshot is mad**

Slingshot peeked into the room quickly, before venting in relief and walking inside. A tiny bit of him wondered where Air Raid could possibly be, but he quickly squashed those questions, finding them unimportant. Where ever his brother had gotten to, was away from him, and considering how angry he was at the other youngling at this moment, that was for the best.

The shih tzu clenched his fist as he headed for his nightstand; rifling through the drawers, trying to locate his game system. Just what the slag was Air Raid trying to pull?! Slingshot slammed the drawer close, cursing and kicking the nightstand for extra measure. For once, things seemed to be finally looking up for them all after that whole 'Fireflight getting sparked' fiasco, when suddenly his brother had to turn around and play some nasty prank on him.

Slingshot couldn't stand for it! Not one bit! And if Air Raid thought he could get away with his sick games, then-

"...S-slingshot?"

The youngling paused in his motion to punch the wall, turning slowly on the spot and staring idly at his youngest sibling standing in the doorway. Fireflight canted his helm to the side at Slingshot's attention; his little brow furrowed in concern. "Are you alright, Slingshot?," came the quiet question.

The grey mech tried his best not to snarl. "...No." He failed.

Fireflight's optics dimmed further and he cupped his servos before his chestplates. "Are you... still mad with Air Raid?" Slingshot tried not to flinch as the smaller shih tzu addressed his feelings. "Y-you shouldn't be. If Ar-Ra did something to make you upset Sling, then you should t-talk to him! It's not right that you should just be mad at him all the time..."

"Oh, what the slag do you know?!," Slingshot shouted at the sparkling, losing control of his temper. He regretted it immediately as he saw his brother cringe at the yell, taking a small step back. From down the hall, came Breakdown's whimper.

Glancing out the door quickly, Fireflight looked back at his older brother, sighing sadly as he stepped back out of the doorway. "...I know Ar-Ra cries in the shower, when he thinks no one can hear him," the little autodog shared quietly, before turning completely and exiting the room.

Stunned, the other shih tzu stood there silently as his brother left him alone.

**Title: Grasping**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: He's grasping at old memories like life-lines**

They'd been the closest when they were younger...

Air Raid tipped his helm back as the water cascaded down from the shower head, shuttering his optics through the downpour quickly; praying that it would be enough to wipe away his tears again. He didn't know what he was going to do anymore, or even why he bothered to lie to his brothers and pretend that everything was alright.

_Little servos clutched his sleeve as they snuggled into a tiny cranny for the group home's game of hide-and-seek. Slingshot had wanted to go find his own hiding spot initially, but once the game had started, he'd clung to his older brother's side like glue. Air Raid didn't mind. He was always looking out for the smaller sparkling, just like they Skydive and Silverbolt looked out for him._

" _D-do... do you think we're hidden good here?," Slingshot hissed, in what could barely pass as a whisper. The red shih tzu nodded back._

" _I think so, Slings," Air Raid replied back, setting a servo on top of the smaller pup's helm and petting him roughly. His younger sibling made a little sound of discontent but when he pulled his servo back, the other autodog was snuggling further into his side._

Soap suds slipped down his thighs, trailing for the drain at the bottom of the tub. Air Raid tried to resist, but it was too late... his frame was burning hot to the touch and certain areas ached for contact. He always hated his heat cycle (more frequent in its arrival than any of his brothers') but it had never bothered him as much as it did now. Holding back a whimper, the autodog leaned against the wall; pedes evenly spread as was physically possible in the tub, plating retracting as his fingers curled up under his aft, running along his valve's rim.

"S...slings...," he mumbled, as one digit slid inside.

_The biggest sparkling turned his helm to look down on his sibling, optic ridge quirked curiously. "...What are you doing, Slings?," Air Raid asked, trying to ignore the pounding of his spark as Slingshot finally stopped nuzzling, obviously having found his comfort spot half-under the other autodog's arm._

_The grey shih tzu didn't reply immediately at first. "... Ar-ra?," Slingshot whispered after a moment._

" _Hm?"_

" _What are bondmates?"_

_Air Raid shuttered his optics in surprise at the question. Mulling it over quickly, figuring his brother must have heard some of the older 'bots talking, the shih tzu decided to answer. "Well... They're kinda like mommies and daddies. Two 'bots, or sometimes three, who make a promise to always stay together and love each other," he explained to the bright-optic sparkling. "They get dressed up real nice and have a big party, like a birthday, and then go and live in a nice, big house, where they kiss and hug a lot, and eventually, have lil' sparklings like you and me."_

_Slingshot gaped in awe. "I... I like that...," he whispered, beaming in joy._

" _Do you, now?," Air Raid giggled, bending low to rub olfactory sensors with his brother. The red sparkling was shocked when suddenly his lip components were pecked, Slingshot giggling in guilt._

" _One day, I'm going to be your bondmate!," he vowed, his little tail wagging with his excitement. "Then we'll be happy and we'll have lots of sparklings too!"_

" _W-what...?!," the older autodog stuttered, still caught off-guard by first the kiss and then the proclamation. "Why?"_

" _Because," Slingshot answered, his optics burning brightly through his visor as a contented smile spread across the sparkling's lip components, "Ar-Ra is special to me. He's my Ar-Ra and I love him very much. I want to be with you always!"_

_The other sparkling didn't know what to say. Cheekplates flushed magenta, Air Raid watched as his little brother snuggled close again; all thought of the game or the other children wiped clear from his processor. There was only him, Slingshot and his pulsating spark._

Gasping softly, Air Raid slipped his fingers out of his valve, feeling his lubricants slowly wash away. Though the dregs of bliss still remained, the mind-numbing haze of his heat cycle was quickly fading, leaving only regret and shame to wash over the autodog. Again... again, he had thought about Slingshot while he touched himself, imagining that it was his brother's servos sliding across his frame and into his valve, instead of his own, desperate ones.

His self-loathing was enough to overwhelm him.

Unable to stand any longer, the youngling slid to the bottom of the tub, folding into himself and sobbing softly as water continued to pitter-patter over his frame.

**Title: Thoughts**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: It was bound to end**

"You... you don't actually like me all that much, do you?"

Slingshot startled at the question, looking up from the ground and turning his helm to the femme. Rosanna's visor dimmed a little as the other autodog's focus was put on her, her smile a little sad around the edges.

"I know I asked you out first and everything, but..." The poodle trailed off momentarily, folding her servos in her lap as she glanced away from the mech. "You don't actually like me, do you?"

Slingshot frowned, confused first by the femme's confrontation and now her conclusion. "...Just what are you going on about?," he gruffed, not in the mood for anyone's mind games this orn. He hadn't even wanted to come to the slagging park, but he wasn't going to tell the femme to frag off either. ...Silverbolt wouldn't be pleased if he did...

Rosanna kept her gaze on the ducks in the pond. "They must be very special, this person you're always thinking about," she said. She turned slightly back to the other youngling. "Your focus is always slipping when I talk to you and if I ask you a question, you always open your mouth before closing it again -as if you were going to say something but then realized I was not the person meant for it."

The shih tzu opened his mouth, but as stated, closed it again. Honestly, what could he say to that anyways? It wasn't like the femme was making it sound like, he just knew he had to be polite and whatnot around her, otherwise Silverbolt and Air Raid would-

The grey autodog clenched his fists, glaring down at the ground again.

He jumped again when a delicate servo rested on his shoulder. "...Not to mention," Rosanna added, her smile even sadder as Slingshot looked up at her, "You always shy away from my touch. I had hoped that perhaps it was just nerves, but I'd be fooling myself if I kept believing that was so."

The poodle rose to her pedes, smoothing down her skirt as she stepped in front of the stunned mech, smiling at him kindly. "Thank you for trying anyways, even though your spark was never fully in it," she said graciously, tucking in her chin shyly, "I hope that this person loves you back, just as equally much as you love them. Goodbye Slingshot."

Then she turned and left, leaving the other youngling to stare in mute shock at her departure.

**Title: Overwhelm**   
**Rating: M**   
**Summary: He doesn't know what to do anymore**

It was quiet when he got back in. Mutely, Slingshot walked into the kitchen, dropping his bag on the counter and picking the note that was left off the fridge. It stated in Silverbolt's neat handwriting that him and the rest of the family had gone over to see Skydive. They'd be back for dinner. Not particularly concerned, the shih tzu crumpled the note, tossing it over his shoulder and slowly wandering for the staircase.

He didn't quite get what happened with Rosanna in the park, but Slingshot wasn't about to say that he wasn't slightly relieved it happened all the same. The femme was obviously starting to become more and more attached, and truthfully, the youngling found it altogether unsettling. At least he was spared the effort of breaking up with her, alongside the tears and unnecessary guilt. But now that meant he didn't have a decent excuse for avoiding Air Raid anymore...

Scowling to himself, Slingshot made it to the top of the landing, almost half-way to his room when he stopped dead in his tracks; olfactory sensors twitching as the musky scent of heat met them. His processor thought to turn tail and run; his frame seemed to have other ideas though. Tip-toeing closer, Slingshot paused outside his berthroom door, grasping the knob and pushing it open a crack. The smell hit him hard then, but not nearly as hard as the sight he could glimpse from this angle.

Stretched out across his berth was Air Raid, pants missing and trembling legs spread wide open as a servo moved frantically between them. Little beads of lubricant glistened from where they hung on his plating, the red mech throwing his helm back as he suddenly started gyrating up into his fingers hard. "A-ahh! Ahh... ah... aah...," Air Raid moaned, whimpering last before his hips fell to the berth again; still rocking, trying to reach an overload.

The other servo managed to untangle itself from the sheets, scrambling over the side and yanking one of Slingshot's shirts up onto the berth. The smaller youngling wanted to growl when he saw this, but kept silent as he watched with disbelieving optics as Air Raid pressed the material to his cheekplates; breathing deeply as he thrust back harder into his own fingers.

"S-slings...," he gasped and for a frightening moment, the grey shih tzu thought he had been discovered, "...p-primus... S-slingshot!" His brother arched into his servo again, panting as he desperately increased his grinding. "Slings... slings... slings... a-ah! YES! S-slings... m-mmmhaaaa... l-love you! I love you! S-Slings...SLINGSHOT!"

Slingshot pulled away from the door quickly, shaking as he pressed himself to the opposite hallway wall, able to hear every heavy intake and soft whimper as Air Raid overloaded; gushing out a bitter-sweet, musky perfume that drove his senses wild. Part of him was disgusted, another part was horrified... another part wanted to rush into the room and pin Air Raid to the berth and frag him. It was all so messed up inside, just a mass of over-lapping and uncertain emotions, driving the youngling further and further into confusion. Unable to take it anymore, Slingshot bolted; rushing back down the stairs and out of the house in a flurry.


	30. Barrel and SwiftStroke

**C.M.D: This chapter revolves predominantly around my OCs Barrel and SwiftStroke, because at the time I was really excited to be writing about them and couldn't help what universes they slipped into. There's no obligations to read this, but it does tie a little bit into Swindle's story later on.**   
**Title: Barrel and SwiftStroke I**   
**Rating: T**

Swindle thought he had it bad before, what with that slagging kittycon and his slagging communication network huffing down his neck cables every couple stellar cycles, and then his on and off relationship with Lockdown but none of those things could compare to this moment here.

"...E-excuse me?," the devon rex gaped, looking up at the judge incredulously. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"I'm afraid not," smiled the vile lawyer seated at the table beside him. Blackarachnia crossed her legs, fingers arched as she leaned back in her chair leisurely. Her red optics glittered viciously. "As of today, you are now the proud guardian of one young pup. My congratulations 'daddy'."

The entrepreneur felt his entire world come crashing around his ears.

**xxXxXxx**

"Oh, I'm really happy to be here! You're going to be my daddy, right? Can I call you daddy? Or maybe just dad. Would that be better? Oh, oh, I'm so excited to see my new room!"

Swindle cringed as the saint bernard began bouncing in place, making the elevator slowly rock. When he heard it groan, the kittycon quickly lashed out, grabbing the sparkling's arm. "Listen you," he growled.

The other mech shuttered his optics back at him. "It's Barrel, daddy," the autodog grinned broadly. "Or you can call me Bar, that's what the social mechs called me. I like Barrel better though. It sounds nicer."

"Yes... right," the devon rex replied, upper lip component curling slightly in derision. "Listen, there's going to be some rules you must follow. Break these and I promise you, you won't like it."

Barrel nodded his helm quickly, squatting slightly so that he would be looking up at his new guardian. Swindle tried not to twitch at that. Primus only knew how some whack-job femme managed to convince the courts that he was the sire of her sparkling -especially since he was obviously fully autodog and already the kittycon's height, despite being only several stellar cycles old. But here he was anyways, with some dead stranger's creation, and no way to get rid of him.

Swindle just hoped that the kid wouldn't get any bigger...

"Rule number one," the entrepreneur started, his optics fixed on the saint bernard testily. "You will not call me daddy, dad or any variation of the word. I may have to look after you, but I am certainly not your sire. If you ever feel you need to address me -and I swear, that better be pretty limited- you are to call me Swindle. Understood?"

He waited until he got a slow nod from the autodog before continuing.

"Secondly, I don't do 'play' or 'fun' or all that other slag. You do what you're told, you eat your meals without complaint, and you go to your room and do homework, or otherwise amuse yourself in some way. I'm a very busy mech, so I don't have time to pander to your every request."

"O-okay...," came Barrel's dejected reply.

Swindle ignored the comment. "And one last, very important thing," he added, getting into the sparkling's face. "Don't ever -EVER- touch my things!"

The elevator dinged as it reached their floor, the metal doors sliding open smoothly. Just as quick as they went, so did the snarl on the kittycon's lip components; the purple and tan mech smiling politely as he stepped away from the other mech. "Ah, time to get off!," he chirped, stepping off the lift.

Tail limp behind him, the once happy sparkling followed after his new guardian quietly.

**xxXxXxx**

The autodog didn't want to admit it but he was... sad.

He watched the other children playing on the jungle gym, wanting to join them but unable to. He'd already tried approaching some of the other kids, but he'd been shot down immediately. None of them wanted to be his friend, and Barrel didn't understand why.

"Freak!," shouted one of the sparklings shouted.

In surprise and hurt, the saint bernard lifted his helm, expecting the words to be directed at him. He was shocked to see that they weren't. Instead, the other sparklings were turned in the opposite direction, hurling mean names at the tiny 'bot wandering past. Barrel perked up, his spark puttering weirdly in his chestplates and his optics flaring brightly.

The stranger was pretty.

They had shiny teal-grey plating, with stripes of neon blue going down their front and back. Delicate black pedes stepped lightly past the playground, blank face turned forwards and away from the other sparklings, almost as if the unknown 'bot didn't notice them there. But the tense fox ears showed otherwise.

Barrel had never seen a fox before.

"Go back to where you came from monster!," shrieked a little femme, giggling madly as she dashed behind her friends when the statement finally drew the stranger's attention. Pausing momentarily, the mysterious individual tilted their helm toward the sparklings; gorgeous magenta optics flashing in slight ire. Turning away, the stranger continued on as if nothing had just happened, while the sparklings booed in disappointment. It was obvious that they had wanted to stir up some trouble.

Waiting until the other kids' attention was elsewhere, the saint bernard quickly got to his pedes, hurrying after the stranger. He was happy to see that the other hadn't gone too far; sitting on a bench just down the street a little, reading silently from a datapad. As quietly as he was able -which wasn't all that quiet really- Barrel approached the tiny 'bot, shuffling nervously beside the bench.

"H-hi," he said, smiling. "C-can... can I sit with you?"

The fox lifted their optics, glancing coolly at the sparkling. Their lip components moved slightly, the small hiss of mumbled words just reaching Barrel's ears. But it wasn't loud enough for the autodog to make sense of it. "What did you say?," he asked politely.

The stranger shuttered their optics at him.

"I am not who you think I am," they eventually replied, turning their attention back to their datapad. "Despite my small stature, I am not young, just as I'm aware your large size does not dictate your age as well."

"Umm..." The smaller 'bot had a very strange voice. It was fairly flat, but had enough of a lilt to it, that it was hard to tell if the other was mech or femme. Still, it sounded really nice to the saint bernard.

Unable to respond to the stranger's comment, Barrel instead sat down on the bench beside the fox, tail wagging obliviously behind him. "Want to be friends?," the sparkling piped, his yellow optics filled with hope and joy. "The other sparklings don't want to play with me, because I'm so big I guess, and my not-dad Swindle works a lot so I get very bored and lonely, and I wouldn't mind if you didn't really want to play, I just-"

"Barrel!"

The autodog jumped at the call of his name. Twisting his helm around, he saw Swindle standing at the corner of the street, fuming. The stranger looked too.

"O-oh...," Barrel mumbled sadly. "That's Swindle. I guess that means I've got to go now." The saint bernard rose to his pedes. "U-umm, about being friends...," he added, half-turning to the fox. "I guess it doesn't-"

"SwiftStroke."

"H-huh?," the sparkling stuttered in confusion.

The fox stared straight into the autodog's optics. "My name," they said neutrally. "It is SwiftStroke."

Barrel's face lit up. "O-oh, awesome, I-"

"BARREL!"

The saint bernard flinched at the roar, waving shortly to the smaller 'bot, before he jogged for his guardian. Despite the furious look Swindle had on his face, Barrel was beaming, his tail waving jauntily behind him. He'd finally made a friend at last!

**xxXxXxx**

"I like him."

A teal-grey fox turned slightly to the mirror, staring blankly at the other smiling back at him. Magenta optics were crinkled in amusement, a kind smiling pulling at grey lip components. "I think you should see him more, Swift. You could use some friends too, you know."

No response was given to the femme.

"C'mon now... I'm not just some silly femme, alright. I'm actually being reasonable here, I mean-"

"Stroke... please."

The reflection in the mirror fell quiet. SwiftStroke turned away from the glass, feeling a rare bout of negativity. Since he'd onlined, so many stellar cycles ago, she had always been there. Stroke, as she was called, was his twin... the one he'd stolen life from. He wasn't quite sure how it happened, or what went wrong, but there should of been two of them instead of one. Perhaps Stroke's spark had been weaker, who could say. All in all, Swift knew that he had been superior, assimilating Stroke's spark into his own, and being the only one protoformed. But she still lived, a voice, a ghost, forever attached to him.

Unfortunately, everyone thought he was mad.

They couldn't understand that SwiftStroke was really two individuals, and simply thought the mech was glitched. He'd spent stellar cycles first abused, then ignored and lastly, locked up in some asylum until he'd stopped talking to other 'bots altogether and escaped to a new city half-way across Cybertron.

"It's not worth the risk," he said aloud, moving about his small home. He distracted himself with the datapads that Stroke had messed with earlier, organizing them into the neat piles he liked them in. "Do you really want to go back to that place? Watch as they put needles and poison in me, trying to drown you out?"

Stroke said nothing.

"No... befriending the pup is too risky. He would not comprehend the situation we are in, or the need for secrecy," Swift finished. "You should not have told him our name."

The fox could feel his twin come up behind him, warmth spreading across his backstruts as her phantasmal touch rested there. Her servos were wrapped around his chassis, hugging him tightly. "I know...," she whispered back, "But I didn't want you to be alone anymore. It's not fair..."

This time, it was Swift who was silent.


	31. Air Raid and Slingshot II

**Title: Witness**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: He knows his brother saw**

Slingshot had seen him...

Air Raid shoved his servos into the sudsy water, trying to keep his trembles down to a minimum as he grasped a dirty plate. Slingshot had seen him, he repeated to himself in mute horror, the terror in his spark growing and growing. He had thought that no one was home and the heat cycle was starting to ache real bad... So he'd decided to help relieve himself, and in the spur of the moment, found himself snuggling Slingshot's shirt while he whimpered his name lustfully.

There had never been a more frightening sound than heavy pedes bolting down the hallway and out of the house...

The shih tzu didn't know what to do. He thought before was a problem but this... this was a disaster! Air Raid choked on an intake, his processor whirling with horrific and possible "what if"s. Stay calm, he told himself weakly, you gotta stay calm. He couldn't bear it if his other brothers found about the shameful stuff he did.

"Air Raid...?"

"A-ah!" The red mech yipped at the sudden call of his name, throwing the plate he was holding back into the sink of dirty dishes. Cringing at his slip-up, Air Raid took a couple moments to contain himself before looking back over his shoulder plating at Silverbolt. "Y-yeah, 'Bolt?," he asked warily.

The oldest autodog glanced at him in concern, before turning his worrisome optics back out the kitchen window. "...I'm worried," he replied. "It's late and Slingshot still hasn't come home. It's not like him to miss dinner."

"I'm sorry," Air Raid wanted to say, "It's all my fault that he's run away this time. If I wasn't such a freak, he might..."

Shaking his helm, the youngling turned back to the dishes, trying to wipe his guilt off of his face. "W-well," he tried to rationalize, "S-Slingshot's at that age where he starts becoming more independent and it's common that he should be out for all hours of the night. Maybe we should just let it be, you know, and I'm sure he'll-"

"Can you please go out and find him, Air Raid?," Silverbolt cut in, stepping away from the window and approaching his brother. He set a servo on the shorter shih tzu's shoulder, trying to look him in the optic. "Please? I can't leave Fireflight alone."

Air Raid stiffened at the touch, but could feel his fuel tanks drop at the request. Looking for Slingshot was both what he wanted and also the last thing he wanted to do. Stuttering, the youngling tried to come up with an appropriate response, but found he couldn't. Swallowing sharply, Air Raid nodded, meekly turning his optics to the floor. "R-right... I'll... I'll go..."

His older brother seemed to sigh in relief at his agreement. "Thank you, Air Raid. So much. Be safe, okay?"

Air Raid nodded again, turning and heading for the kitchen door.

**Title: Run Away**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: No matter what he does, all is pointless**

He didn't know what he was going to do.

Slingshot glared at the city sky-line, huffing and growling to himself softly as he hugged his knees to his chestplates tighter. The bark of the tree bit against his backstruts and it was starting to get kinda cold out here, but the autodog stubbornly remained exactly where he was. He could not bring himself to go home, not when he knew... he... was going to be there.

The youngling scowled, trying to shake Air Raid from his thoughts, but the harder he tried, the more firmly the other shih tzu stuck. Why did his brother have to be a freak for?! Slingshot wanted to scream and break something -he didn't like feeling so torn up like this or the fact that he could feel his spike still aching softly underneath his plating. Disgusted with himself, the autodog shoved his thighs closer together, threatening the charge to disappear before he pummelled it.

He almost missed the sound of softly approaching pede-steps because of all of his inner ranting.

"...Slingshot...?"

The shih tzu startled on his branch, shifting enough so he could glare down at the mech below. "What do you want?!," he shouted angrily. "Leave me alone, you freak! How did you even find me?"

Air Raid smiled sadly up at his brother, struck hard by the name-calling. "...I always knew how to find you, Slings," he shrugged casually, trying to push back the tears rising in his optics. "A-anyways," he quickly added, "You've got to come home. Silverbolt's worried and-"

"I'm not going anywhere with you, sicko!," Slingshot yelled, punching the tree. A few leaves drifted to the ground as they were rattled violently from their perch. "You're weird and sick and twisted and... and I'm not-"

"Slingshot!," the older shih tzu scowled, his wild emotions starting to get the better of him as well. "You can c-call me all the terrible things you w-want, but... but just don't do it from high up in a tree! Come d-down and talk to me like a civilized 'bot!"

The younger autodog narrowed his optics at the demand, before leaping down from his branch. Air Raid only had a moment or two to worry about Slingshot's safety before a fist was flying towards his face, knocking him to the ground as it met his cheekplate hard.

"How's that for civilized?," Slingshot hissed, standing over Air Raid, fists balled; ready for a retaliation.

Air Raid sat up shakily in shock, one servo cupping his dented cheekplate, looking at his brother in stunned disbelief. Quickly though his expression softened and changed, wide optics dimming as tears quickly filled them; his entire gaze lowering to the ground guiltily.

"I...," the red mech started softly, "I-i'm... sorry, Slings. For everything. P-please... please don't b-be mad with me..."

Slingshot took an uncertain step back, his anger fading into shock and anxiousness. He had expected his brother to fight back... To kick or punch or maybe even just try to pin him down or something... What he hadn't anticipated on was for Air Raid -tough, fun, spunky Air Raid- to meekly concede defeat, as tears spilled down his cheekplates and to the floor. He'd never seen Air Raid cry before...

"W-why... Why are you sorry?!," the grey youngling shouted defensively, feeling his spark twist and writhe sickly as he took another step back from his weeping brother. "Why are you crying for!? I-i... I don't get you! You're the one being weird a-and, and... and you were d-doing those things... W-why!? Why do you have to be l-like this?!"

He didn't like this; didn't like seeing Air Raid sad. _'Make it stop,'_ a weak voice pleaded inside of him, _'Make it stop...'_

Dim optics lifted, looking at Slingshot seriously. "B-because...," the red shih tzu mumbled, his lip components twisting upward in a shattered smile, "I l-love you, Slings... a-and, once upon a time, you s-said you loved me t-too... I-i'm sorry I disgust you."

That was the final straw for the smaller autodog. Air Raid watched in horror as Slingshot twisted away from him, bolting through the dark park and out of sight once more. He tried to call after his brother, but it was too late and his out-stretched servo dropped to the floor heavily; his spark withering in his chestplates. Getting to his pedes weakly, Air Raid slowly turned towards the direction of home, hoping that Slingshot would return there of his own volition as well.

...because he obviously would never trust his brother to bring him home ever again...

**Title: Couch**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: He's thirsty**

Slingshot padded down the stairs, pausing in the doorway to the living room on his way to get a drink. He was both unnerved and unsurprised to see a familiar shape curled up on the couch. For a couple weeks now, the youngling had been avidly avoiding and keeping away from his older brother at all times... out of fear.

Fear that he'd say something to upset Air Raid again and make him cry. Fear that his brother would try to do those weird things to him. Fear that trying to make sense of his confused and chaotic emotions might just mean losing his brother completely...

Tail lowered uncertainly, Slingshot ventured into the dark living room, tip-toeing to the other shih tzu's sleeping frame. Even in recharge, Air Raid looked troubled and that caused the smaller autodog's spark to wither weirdly in his chestplates. Air Raid had always been such a happy mech, but now he was quiet, somber and kept to himself a lot these orns.

He didn't even bother coming back to their room anymore.

"...why... why are you like this?," he mumbled to the sleeping mech. Looking around uncertainly, Slingshot sank to his knee joints, resting his chin beside Air Raid's helm on the couch. The youngling stared at his brother, his optics half-shuttered worriedly at the dry tear stains he could see around the corner of the other shih tzu's optics.

"I-i...," he whispered softly in remorse, "I'm sorry... I really am. I... I just..."

The grey autodog opened his mouth to continue, but found the words couldn't escape. Giving up entirely, Slingshot stood up and padded back for the staircase, forgetting about his drink all together.

**Title: Confrontation**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: The time for running is over**

It only took a few more orns before Slingshot's infamous temper took control of his actions.

"W-woah! What the- Slings?!" Air Raid stumbled back down the last couple steps, frowning slightly as his brother stomped down the stairs, blocking his path out from the basement. Already, chills were running up and down his spinal struts; he didn't know what could have prompted the grey shih tzu to come to him now, but Air Raid was certain it wasn't something he wanted to hear.

Lip components twisted downwards in a foul frown, Slingshot stopped just at the bottom of the stairs, crossing his arms over his chestplates and glaring at the other autodog. "You've been avoiding me," he growled.

The red mech flinched at the sound. "Well, I-i could say the same for you," he shot back, hackles rising as well. "Listen, if y-you're just going to sit there and yell at me, I'm going to have to ask you to wait until some other time because I'm-" Air Raid quickly tried to shove past his brother.

"You're not leaving!," Slingshot yelled, grabbing the taller shih tzu's arm and shoving him back into the basement. He cringed as he watched Air Raid stumble backwards, tripping and falling back on his aft with a hiss. "Y-you're... you're not going anywhere until you give me some answers!"

"What 'answers', Slingshot?!," Air Raid shouted back, finally annoyed. He thought to get up, but his ankle was throbbing and he really didn't feel like being pushed down again by his volatile brother. "All you've been doing is screaming at me or running away!," he growled, "Not once have you asked me anything, not once! How am I supposed to 'answer' someone yelling curses at me?!"

The grey youngling flinched at the truth in that statement; his fists balling at his sides. "W-well- you're the one who said that slag first! It makes no sense! Why did you say those things, Air Raid? Why did you say you love me?!"

The older shih tzu shuttered his optics. "T-that... that's what this is all about? Y-you're... you're upset because I... I said I loved you?" Air Raid looked at Slingshot in stunned disbelief, feeling tears start to well up in his optics. "Are you really s-so... Slaggit, why wouldn't I say it, Slingshot?! I love you! I've loved you since we were little! I probably would have ignored it all, moved on, but y-you... you're th-the one who s-said I love you f-first! You're the o-one who c-constantly s-sought my love b-back! Y-you're the one who p-promised t-to be my b-bondmate when we g-got older!"

His optics were burning now, over filled with tears that were quickly spilling down his cheekplates as his expression twisted with agony. "Y-you are t-the one wh-who made all t-those promises t-to me and n-now you're the one w-who hates me! I should be the one a-asking 'why'!"

Slingshot took a step back in panic at his brother's tears, shoulders hunching high about his helm. "I-i...," he half-growled, half-whimpered, "I... I n-never said those things! I-"

Air raid clapped his servos over his ears, giving a short, muffled scream. "Don't you dare s-say that you didn't tell me any of those things!," he screamed, covering his face with his servos and folding into himself. "D-don't you dare, S-slingshot! Don't try to make it seem like you never g-gave me those words or l-loved me just as much as you d-did! D-don't... don't m-make my f-feelings so... s-so in... insignificant..."

His optics flared in distress and if it had been long enough, the smaller shih tzu knew his tail would have tucked itself between his legs. He didn't know what to do or what to say, as he watched Air Raid crumple again before his optics; loudly sobbing and curling up into a ball to escape the rest of the world. His spark withered with guilt and all the frustration Slingshot could feel was quickly bleeding away, leaving him weak in the knee joints and just as spark-broken.

"I-i... I... s-sorry! I'm sorry!," he croaked, backing away from his brother another step. "I r-really am, A-air Raid, b-but... but I had to!" Slingshot looked pleadingly into the wet optics that rose, staring back at him with mute confusion. "M-maybe I... maybe I really loved you, b-but... but you're m-my brother! I, I can't be a k-kid forever!"

Air Raid's brow furrowed as his puzzlement grew, his optics filling with coolant again. "I... W-what," he mumbled, his intakes hitching, "W-what are you s-saying?"

Slingshot tried to look at the red mech, but it was too hard. He snapped his helm to the side, balling his fists anxiously before himself as he bit his bottom lip component. "I-i mean- I had to grow up!," he stuttered in explanation. "S-silverbolt g-got us a home, and w-we were no longer part of the S-system, but w-we all knew they could take u-us back at any time! E-especially F-fireflight! So, s-so I... I had to grow up s-so I could protect him, j-just like you, and S-skydive and S-silverbolt would p-protect me. I-i couldn't d-do any more of that baby stuff b-because I n-needed to be a good big brother f-for Fireflight! S-so... t-that's why!"

"I... I still don't u-understand..." The older shih tzu wiped at his optics quickly, struggling to get to his pedes. He managed, barely, but made sure not to move from his spot, afraid that his brother would finally run away. "S-slings, I..." Air Raid clasped his servos at his chestplates. "Y-you... you wanted to grow up?"

The smaller autodog didn't know why he was being asked this just after he had explained everything. "Y-yes! That's what I just said," Slingshot scowled. "I had to-"

"Y-yes, I get that!," Air Raid quickly cut in. "B-but... why? Why did that mean y-you had to stop loving me too, Slings?" He paused, choking on another sob as he saw a startled look paint itself across his brother's face. "S-slingshot, I h-had to grow up too! B-but that doesn't mean I e-ever stopped loving you. You a-are my brother, same as Fireflight and Skydive and Silverbolt, a-and I will do all i-in my power to m-make sure you are p-protected at a-all times, b-but... I w-want to be more, Slingshot. I w-want t-to m-mean so m-much m-more to you t-than t-that. I-i w-want to h-hold you i-in my arms a-and kiss you, a-and m-maybe one d-day c-connect with you... M-mostly th-though, I j-just w-want to l-love you and b-be loved back t-the same."

"C-can't... don't y-you feel a-any of that for m-me still?," the red youngling asked, his optics wide and searching.

The other shih tzu didn't reply. Slingshot shuffled in place, breaking off optic-contact with his brother quickly and gazing at something unknown in the dim basement. Taking it for rejection, Air Raid slowly nodded, doing his best to keep down his tears.

"O-okay," he whispered hoarsely, "I-i understand. I p-promise t-to stop b-being a freak."

Slingshot did nothing as his brother shuffled slowly for the staircase, stepping around the grey mech and continuing on up. Only after the door had closed behind Air Raid, did the youngling turn around, staring up at the basement door with tears filling his optics.

**Title: Silent**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: It's hard to speak when you can't find the words**

"And please be careful with that Slingshot! I just washed and folded those."

Grumbling, the youngling ignored his oldest brother's shout, shifting his grip on the basket in his arms and taking his first, slow step up the staircase. "...stupid clothes... folded... perfectionist," he huffed, trying to see past the clothes half-blocking his vision. "If Silverbolt would just- ack!"

Slingshot tripped as he tried to reach for the next step, taking a dive forward but just as suddenly, he was being pushed upright again before either he or the laundry could take a tumble. Breathing a sigh in relief, the shih tzu lowered the basket, his mouth opening in thanks when he felt all the words die on the tip of his glossa.

Air Raid looked back at him, not the least bit surprised, his optics dim and blank. After an astrosecond of tense silence, the red autodog stepped past his brother, walking down the rest of the stairs. Slingshot watched him go, gaping like crazy, trying to force something out of his throat. But nothing came and he gave up the moment Air Raid exited out the front door.

**Title: Snuggle**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: Another night, another recharge on the couch**

The tick-tock of the kitchen clock filled the silent house, echoing loudly as he snuck down the stairs. He stopped at the bottom landing, peeking upstairs quickly to double-check that he hadn't woken anyone up. Seeing that it was all clear, the youngling slunk toward the living room, taking a look inside as well.

He was not surprised to see a slumbering form stretched across the couch, huddled under a thin sheet like every night prior. Rubbing an arm anxiously, the autodog stepped forward slowly, circling all the furniture carefully as he headed for the couch through the dark. He hovered for a klik above the taller shih tzu, just merely staring longingly at the mech; studying shuttered optics and red plating.

The youngling debated with himself for a moment, before clenching his fists and quickly dropping to his knee joints.

Air Raid stirred awake as he felt the couch bounce and shake oddly, a heavy weight rolling onto his side and half-curling over his form. He slowly unshuttered his optics to see an arm draping the blanket over a second frame, before a helm was nuzzled shyly under his chin. If it had not been for the familiar grey ears he saw as this was happening, the youngling might have panicked.

Instead, his spark swelled while a million and one different thoughts raced through his dazed processor. Smiling as Slingshot cuddled closer, Air Raid shuttered his optics again; looking forward to whatever dreams would come to him then.


	32. Barrel and SwiftStroke II

**C.M.D: Mild warning here! Barrel is identified as a child and he does go into heat, thus SwiftStroke (reluctantly) helps him out (and by that, I mean sleeps with him). If you still find this uncomfortable to read, you may skip over this chapter or view the censored version on FF.net.**

**Title: Barrel and SwiftStroke II  
Rating: M**

When SwiftStroke found Barrel, it was to see the saint bernard sitting on a bench in the condo's playground in the dark, servos trapped tight between his shuffling thighs. The autodog barely noticed as his friend approached, his gaze glued to the ground beneath his antsy pedes. And SwiftStroke was soon to discover why.

The smell of fresh lubricant hit his olfactory sensors as he neared Barrel; the fox's frame tensing as he was affected by the alluring scent of the pup's heat cycle.

"Barrel...," the small mech called, surprising the other. Barrel snapped his helm upwards, flinching as SwiftStroke padded silently towards him. He whined as the fox came to a pause just in front of him, his tiny servos held appropriately at his sides. He really wanted to have those teal-grey fingers running through his fur though; petting and stroking at his ears while soft lip components pressed gentle kisses across his cheekplates.

"S-swift, I..."

"You are in heat," SwiftStroke remarked bluntly. He stepped onto the bench, a servo cupping under the autodog's chin as he turned the sparkling's helm to face him. "Your first cycle... Much too young though. What brought this on?"

Barrel didn't quite understand what the other 'bot was going on about. "S-swindle, he...h-he t-told me to g-get out. H-he was d-doing strange th-things with h-his friend," the saint bernard mumbled, thighs rubbing together uselessly as the itch under his plating increased with the fox's touch. "B-but I...I-i feel weird..."

The teal-grey mech shuttered his optics slowly as he absorbed this bit of news, refraining from cursing at the sparkling's guardian out loud. The mech should have known that the rich heat cycle of a full-grown 'bot could trigger another's cycle, especially if that someone was a sparkling and if there was another partner there to consummate the act; scents, both tantalizing and sharp, mixing in a heady blend as transfluid and lubricants were swapped. Swindle, if he'd had any decency, would have boarded his room against the smell or otherwise done such with Barrel's room. But no, he'd been careless, and now this sparkling -much too young to be in a heat cycle, let alone comprehend the act of interfacing- was well on his way to being charged and had been abandoned to suffer without relief.

SwiftStroke was forced to tear himself out of his thoughts when he noticed that the autodog was now nuzzling against his palm, servos twitching by the mech's pedes as he whined weakly. "Sw-swift...," he panted heavily, "Y-you... you smell r-really good. C-could I...?"

The fox tried to back away immediately, but Barrel grabbed him around the waist, yellow optics peering up at the other, begging silently, as he hunched over with the action. "P-please Swift... d-don't go," the sparkling keened, coolant glazing his optics. "Pl-please...?"

Where was Stroke when he needed her, the mech wondered silently. He could have used her guidance at this moment.

The sparkling was now nuzzling his chestplates, olfactory sensor brushing against Swift's collar strut. "S-smell... smell s-so ni-nice...," he mumbled dazedly, whimpering as he pulled the fox closer. The teal-grey mech gasped a little as he was pressed against Barrel's frame, almost scalded by the heat coming out from the larger 'bot's seams. The sound made the saint bernard grip him tighter.

"S-swift..."

SwiftStroke onlined his optics at the broken sob, staring up at the night sky as he came to a decision. Turning his helm down, he cupped Barrel's cheekplate with one servo, the other patting down the sparkling's helm. "Lay back down," he instructed, "Pull down your shorts and retract your codpiece. You know what that is, don't you?"

A slow, uncertain nod was his reply.

The fox shuttered his optics back. Whining softly, the saint bernard released him, laying back as much as he was able to on the bench, retracting his codpiece as told, letting his spike finally pressurize, breaking the seal covering it in the process. The thin cable was already slicked with transfluids; the valve just beneath seeping out intoxicating lubricants through the pink seal stretched across it thinly.

Without waiting for the questions he was certain would come, SwiftStroke dropped to his knees, his mouth closing over the tip. Sliding down as much as he was able -which only was about a third of the way- the smaller mech wrapped his servos around the rest of the sparkling's spike, squeezing and groping at the heated metal while he bobbed his helm. Barrel threw his helm back as his spike was swallowed up by the fox, crying and wriggling wildly at the conflicting sensations that rose. He felt he should push his friend away, not understanding what he was doing, but it felt so good and the autodog couldn't help but to want more.

"Sw-swift!," the saint bernard cried out sharply as he suddenly hit his peak, overloading hard in the other's mouth. Transfluid ruptured out of the corner of the fox's mouth, forcing SwiftStroke to pull back, gagging, as his mouth was over flooded with Barrel's liquid. A few more spurts shot out from the larger mech's spike as he retreated, splashing across his ears and cheekplates.

The sparkling blushed, sitting up quickly as he stared at SwiftStroke, who was slowly lifting fingers up to his face, wiping some of the sticky fluid off. "I-i-i, I'm so-sorry!," Barrel stuttered loudly. "S-swift, I-i re-really am, I-i-!"

"Don't worry about it," the fox interrupted. SwiftStroke pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, wiping at his face. "Cover yourself up and head back inside. It's getting late." He turned to leave, when two large arms wrapped around his waist, yanking him back. The teal-grey mech made a small sound as the intakes were forced from him as he slammed back a little too roughly against the sparkling's chestplates; pressurized spike trembling between his thighs as he found himself seated on Barrel's lap.

"I-i-i... I still f-feel weird, S-swift...," the pup was saying against his ear. "C-can I... I-i do t-the same t-to you? Pl-please...?"

SwiftStroke opened his mouth to decline the offer, but only moaned as a warm glossa lapped at the base of his ear. "O-okay...," he whispered. "D-do as you wi-wish."

Immediately, gentle servos were moving along his frame; one pushing his shirt up to his collar strut, the other unzipping his pants and sliding inside of them. For a while, Barrel just simply petted him, obviously unsure of what to do next. Charge buzzing now, SwiftStroke grew impatient with the naive sparkling, pushing up off of the saint bernard. Quickly, he took off his pants, retracting his codpiece and climbing back onto the other's lap before Barrel had a chance to complain.

"Lay back down," the fox ordered, pushing at the autodog's chestplates as he aligned himself above the sparkling's spike. "Relax."

The teal-grey mech glanced quickly at the spike between his spread legs, evaluating the size and length. Even as slick as it was, Barrel was fairly larger than him by at least a forearm... it would be a tight fit at best; more than likely it would tear something in the process. No matter, SwiftStroke thought. The sparkling was suffering as it was with his heat cycle. Shuttering his optics, the fox slid down on the spike quickly, pausing for a moment as the tip breached his valve, before clenching his denta and forcing himself down the rest of the way.

"S-swwaaaaaaah!," the sparkling cried, servos squeezing the bench so hard that the wood groaned under the pressure. Barrel whimpered, overwhelmed by the pleasure of the other's tight, wet valve clamping around his virgin spike. He felt SwiftStroke's knees press into his stomach plating, fingers digging into his chestplates harshly, as the fox lifted himself off and slammed back down again; breathless gasps escaping the smaller 'bot and molten walls rippling along the ridges of his cable.

"O-oh... ooh, S-swift. Swift, I-i... aah... s-so good...," the saint bernard choked. "I-i... ohh..." Barrel attempted to lift his helm, watching through half-shuttered optics as the teal-grey mech rode him. The sight before him -of a delicate mouth wide open, panting, as cheekplates were stained lilac, entire little frame trembling- proved too much for the autodog. He gave one last wail, bucking upwards into the valve that clutched tightly around him, milking him for all he was worth. Thick, sticky and hot transfluid erupted inside of the fox, making him flinch as his passage was suddenly swamped; the liquid rupturing out of the seams between them and splattering on Barrel's and SwiftStroke's plating.

"P-primus...," Barrel mumbled through numb lip components.

SwiftStroke said nothing, weakly pushing himself up altogether; moaning softly as transfluids gushed out of his valve at the motion. He stepped back, turning around to grab his discarded pants. The fox gasped though when he found himself pushed down suddenly into the bench's seat, Barrel's heated frame pressing against his backstruts.

"S-swift," the saint bernard murmured against his ears. The glossa was back again, laving gently at the fur. "C-can I... Swift, c-could I? Ag-again?"

The smaller mech barely had a chance to reply, before he could feel the autodog's spike pressing against the outer rim of his valve again. Hiking his aft into the air, SwiftStroke bit his bottom lip component as Barrel slid in easily, his soaked passage spreading wide for the sparkling's second entry. He didn't think the cycle would be strong enough that Barrel would need more than two overloads. All other thought was thrown from SwiftStroke's processor though when the saint bernard broke out into a wild pace; Barrel whining and gasping, hunched over above him, as he pounded into the smaller one.

"B-barrel!," SwiftStroke cried, clinging to the bench as the pixels scattered before his optics, again and again, in colorful bursts of static with every powerful thrust the saint bernard gave. He moaned loudly, unable to restrain the sounds. Behind him, Barrel keened and groaned, moving erratically as he spiraled towards his third overload that night.

"Sw-swift!," the sparkling howled to the heavens above as he reached his peak violently. He could feel his friend give a sharp yip as the small valve spasmed around his spike again, clenched tightly like a vice. Whimpering as he came down from his high, Barrel rocked slowly into the fox, gently pulling himself back after a klik. "S-swift...," he sighed, nuzzling the back of the other's helm.

The teal-grey 'bot turned slowly, wide magenta optics lifting to smile at him kindly. Blushing, the saint bernard quickly tugged his shorts back up, looking at the other shyly. "H-hi Stroke...," he mumbled, embarrassed that he had been seen in such a state by Swift's other half.

The "femme" chuckled lightly, pushing herself up with a short hiss and patting the autodog's cheekplate. "Hey, Bell," she said. "I'm glad to see you're feeling better."

The saint bernard could only nod his helm.

Laughing lightly again, Stroke leaned forward, kissing Barrel on the corner of his mouth. "Thank you, for this. I know Swift was just trying to help, but it really means a lot to us. He cares for you a lot, you know, even if he'll never admit it."

"R-really?!," the sparkling gaped, perking up in his seat. His tail wagged eagerly beside him.

At the adorable sight, Stroke hugged the larger 'bot, giggling again. Her giggles turned into a small sound of pain though as the action strained some of her sore cables. "It's alright," she answered to Barrel's silent inquiry, pulling back a little to look him in the optic. "Unfortunately I don't think I'll be able to get home. If I gave you the directions, could you take us home? I know Swift wouldn't want you staying outside all night either."

The pup was beaming now. Trying to suppress the smile growing, Barrel hurried to get off the creaking bench, gently scooping the fox up into his arms. He made sure to grab SwiftStroke's pants, tucking them over an arm as the smaller 'bot curled against his chestplates.

"Thanks Barrel," Stroke said again, nuzzling the saint bernard.

"N-no... no problem, S-stroke," Barrel returned, blushing again.


	33. Air Raid and Slingshot III

**Title: Flower**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: Are things back to normal or...?**

Air Raid wondered if their relationship would ever heal. Sighing, the mech turned his optics away from his homework, gazing out his berthroom window as he idly twirled a pen. It had been a month -literally- since Slingshot had crawled onto the couch with him; the closest thing to an apology the younger shih tzu could give. Admittedly, feeling his brother's frame pressed snugly against his own, had been the best sensation Air Raid had ever experienced... but the crushing disappointment upon waking up to find that Slingshot had already taken off, still stung, making approaching his brother harder.

What was Slingshot playing at?

Did he accept and even return Air Raid's feelings or was he just doing all this to hurt the older youngling?

Air Raid sighed, wiping at his optics wearily. Worrying about all this was not helping him finish his homework.

"...A-Air Raid," a voice coughed softly behind him.

Alarmed, the red mech whirled around his chair, staring in shock at Slingshot. The shorter shih tzu stood with all his weight on one pede awkwardly, helm torn between looking up or looking down; that small, nervous frown on his face that he always wore when he was both uncertain about something, but determined all the same. Air Raid did his best to not let that adorable expression distract him.

"Y-yes?," he mumbled back. Slingshot opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it close immediately after, yanking a servo out of his hoodie pouch and thrusting his fist towards the older shih tzu. Air Raid shuttered his optics quickly, unable to stop the rising blush as he noted that there was a poor, half-strangled daffodil clenched between trembling fingers.

"I-i... I k-kept waiting f-for you to d-do something," Slingshot blurted out fast, "B-but y-you're really slow a-and I didn't w-want you to t-think that I hate y-you or something, s-so, here! H-have this!"

He was giving him a flower... Slingshot was showing Air Raid how he felt. The red youngling snapped out of his daze, a large grin spreading to his face as he jumped to his pedes; grabbing Slingshot in a tight hug, kissing his brother soundly. The grey shih tzu bit impatiently on his lower lip component and, chuckling softly, Air Raid opened his mouth in answer to the demand, unable to stop the moan as Slingshot's glossa slipped inside.

When shy servos circled around his backstruts, tugging the older autodog closer, is when Air Raid really felt his spark soar.

**Title: Midnight**   
**Rating: M**   
**Summary: They share late night moments**

"N-nghhh... A-air... Air Raid!" Slingshot bit his bottom lip component hard, twisting his helm to the side, trying to find his brother's mouth. He was saved some of his effort when the other autodog pulled back from his neck cables; mouths locking and glossas twining hungrily. It muffled the grey youngling's yelps mostly as white fingers circled tightly around his spike, Air Raid's palm rubbing hard at the cable's underside, stimulating the sensors harshly.

Unable to handle this continuous strain of torture, Slingshot grabbed his brother's wrist, jerkily guiding him to go faster until he overloaded with a slight whimper. Smiling pleasantly, Air Raid continued to kiss Slingshot until he felt the younger shih tzu settle down under his touch; releasing the spike and gently covering his brother up again.

"O-oh... oh Primus...," Slingshot whispered, panting softly as Air Raid pushed himself up a little.

"Good?," the other mech chuckled quietly. "You might want to be a little louder though. I don't think 'Bolt or Fireflight heard you."

Blue optics narrowed at him sullenly behind a visor, making Air Raid chuckle again, leaning down and pecking his brother quickly in apology. "I'm sorry. Was just teasing," he said, tugging Slingshot closer, snuggling with him. "I love you, Slingshot."

"I-i... I do too," came the soft reply.

Air Raid smiled wryly, noting that once again, Slingshot had not said 'I love you' back. That's alright, he told himself, in time he would. Give it time and Slingshot would feel confident to say those three important words to him. For now, Air Raid was just glad to be able to touch his brother and share a berth with him; his feelings spoken and acknowledged.

**Title: To Hold You**   
**Rating: M**   
**Summary: They take a step forward**

He wanted more.

Air Raid tried not to smile as he glanced at the window; through its reflection, catching Slingshot staring at his backstruts unflinchingly. His brother had been shooting frequent glances at him all week long and had even taken to sticking to his heels most orns, as if he was Slingshot's only life-line to the rest of the world. Silly really, but a cute thought. But no... Air Raid really knew why Slingshot was on him like glue, awkwardly stalking his older brother, unable to voice what he wanted.

Slingshot was nearing his heat cycle. His first, to be exact. The air was slightly sharper; their room becoming a tad musky -all evidence that their recent sexual activity was bringing about a change in the grey shih tzu. It must have been confusing -even infuriating- to slowly feel yourself losing control of your own processor and frame... and no doubt, Slingshot would be both too stubborn and embarrassed to ask for help from _anyone_.

Putting down his pencil, Air Raid turned in his seat, his optics locked with Slingshot's as he rose to his pedes. The other youngling flinched as the red mech took a step towards him; something tangy scenting the air, confirming Air Raid's earlier thoughts. Smiling kindly, he pushed Slingshot down onto the berth, taking a moment to kiss his brother. Slingshot keened faintly their conjoined mouths, his servos fisting Air Raid's sweater.

"I... i-i...," he mumbled weakly as the older shih tzu leaned back an inch.

"It's okay, Slingshot," Air Raid soothed, stroking his brother's cheekplate while his other servo slide down his frame. "It's a heat cycle -perfectly normal. It's a good way for your frame to acknowledge what it wants, and get what it needs."

Slingshot snarled, grabbing Air Raid's helm and forcibly kissing the other mech as Air Raid's servo slipped into his pants. "I-i know what a heat cycle is," he grumbled. "D-don't patronize me."

Air Raid smirked in amusement. "Mmmm... big words, Slings. I'm impressed."

The red shih tzu gently pulled out of Slingshot's grasp, slipping down his frame; kissing the other's stomach plating as he pulled down his pants, tossing them somewhere across the berthroom floor. Slingshot whined wantonly at the fleeting pressure, his codpiece retracting without a second thought, his spike practically leaping into Air Raid's face.

Blue optics shuttered quickly in surprise, before Air Raid swooned, overcome by both the sight of that slicked spike and valve. "Oh, Slings...," he breathed softly, leaning forward, lip components brushing against the spike with every syllable. "Y-you're so beautiful."

Slingshot whimpered at the teasing pressure, servos sliding and curling through the sheets, twisting them harshly. Grinning blissfully, Air Raid opened his mouth, swallowing down the thicker spike; his fingers dipping and rubbing softly into the seal covering the grey autodog's valve.

"A-aaahh!," Slingshot yelped, sharply, arching on the berth, shaking servos grabbing his brother's helm. The red youngling gagged a little, shoved down harder on the twitching cable, trying to hold back his whimpers as Slingshot started thrusting up into his mouth wildly.

Oh... oh, Slingshot was always so impatient and violent... but -Primus!- if it didn't make him all the more wet anyhow. Feeling his spike press tightly against his codpiece, Air Raid hummed harder; his fingers dipping sharply into the seal suddenly, with just enough force to snap the covering. Slingshot gave a short yelp as he slammed up into the roof of his brother's mouth, shooting his transfluid into the unsuspecting cavern as a finger slide for the first time into his valve. Gagging only momentarily, Air Raid let his optical sensors roll back into the back of his helm as he swallowed down Slingshot's fluids; his sly finger slowly massaging the untouched sensors in his brother's valve, stimulating them enough to ease away any lingering pain and encourage lubricant to ooze from the walls.

"R... 'raid...," the grey youngling mumbled weakly.

Slowly, reluctantly, the older shih tzu pulled away, finding his brother lying weakly back on the mattress, helm tossed back. Grinning, Air Raid slid up Slingshot's frame, cupping his brother's cheekplate with one servo as he kissed him softly.

"Mmm... y-you," Slingshot broke away from the kiss, scowling a little, "Y-you're gross... y-you just h-had my...u-uh... t-thing, in y-your..."

"I know," Air Raid chuckled, "Isn't it grand?"

Pressing his hot codpiece against Slingshot's aft, the red youngling was barely able to hold back from grinding on his open, vulnerable brother. Optics dimming wantonly, Air Raid buried his face into the other's neck cables, nuzzling under his chin meekly. "S-slings... O-oh, slings...," he whimpered softly. "Y-you're so beautiful, s-so precious... I want y-you, Slings. I w-want all of you: spark, processor a-and frame. I want t-to protect you and love you a-and, heh, Primus, I want to frag you. A-anything that'll bring me closer to you..."

The shih tzu yelped a little as he had his helm yanked back up, blue optics glaring at him from behind a translucent visor. Only the bright splash of magenta across white cheekplates and the light trembles from the fingertips grasping the back of his neck, gave him any indication that Slingshot wasn't really angry with him.

"Y-you... s-stop saying stupid slag already," the other autodog grumbled out finally, his blush deepening. "Just g-get on w-with it... 'k-kay?"

He was nervous.

Embarrassed even.

Air Raid smiled softly, feeling his spark swell; the only one, he was certain, that was witness to this insecure and modest side of his brother. Lacing fingers with one of Slingshot's servos, Air Raid unzipped his pants, sliding closer the other youngling, just as he pressed his spike tip against the valve's outer rim.

"I love you, Slingshot," he confessed against the grey shih tzu's mouth, pressing harder, melting into a kiss, "With all of my being."

Slingshot only whimpered softly as Air Raid slide into his valve, inch by agonizing inch, his free servo pushing down on the back of his helm, forcing them closer.

**Title: Lusting**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: Slingshot tries to focus in class**

He'd liked it. Slingshot shifted nervously in his seat, trying to focus on what his teacher was droning about now, but couldn't even grasp enough focus to pretend to be paying attention anymore. All he could think of -all that filled his helm at that moment- was his brother.

Air Raid smiling at him. Air Raid giving him those glittery, mischievous optics. Air Raid, flushed, smiling tenderly as he slid into the younger mech's valve. Air Raid gasping wantonly as he slid quickly down his brother's spike, making loud declarations of love and loyalty to him alone...

Slingshot snapped his thighs together tightly, looking out the classroom window, desperate to find a distraction. If he didn't find something else to preoccupy his thoughts, he'd be stuck with a stubborn charge all orn -and Slingshot was certain he wouldn't be able to handle that.

Already, he wanted to-

Ah, slaggit. The shih tzu slumped in his seat, conceding in defeat. There was no way he'd be able to focus now, and memories of Air Raid and his wet valve were calling for him. Oh... How hot and soaked he'd been... As if waiting for so long to take Slingshot inside that soft, warm passage; supple walls ready for a good spike and outer rim already dripping lub-

Slingshot thoughts crashed to a halt momentarily. A seal... An untouched valve was usually sealed. Air Raid had none. Not even traces. If given time, seals could easily be broken by one's own self... but, the comfort in which his brother had accepted his spike, could not be practised. Not alone.

Did that mean...?

That Air Raid...?

Slingshot scowled down at his textbook; strangling his pen in his servo. His good mood gone -and even his charge- the grey shih tzu sank lower in his seat, plagued by the rising, dark cloud of incessant questions and doubts.

**Title: Honest**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: He's been keeping a secret**

The warm water cascaded down his frame, helping to ease out any kinks or stiffness. Air Raid was surprised that he even had any soreness at all -had to be stress, he figured. His final exams were coming up and everyone was cheering for him to finish with top marks. Unspoken, there was the expectation that he finish in the Academy, unlike his brothers who had not been able to. Air Raid sighed at that.

There wasn't much he could really see himself doing after he graduated, but he didn't want to disappoint Silverbolt or Skydive either.

Putting aside his concerns for the moment, the shih tzu stepped back out of the spray a little; sliding his sudsy fingers around the rim to his valve. It had only been a few orns since him and Slingshot had last interfaced, Air Raid noted with a smile. As sudden as the fights had started, the two younglings had crashed straight into a relationship; sneaking kisses and touches any chance they got. 'Facing when they had a long enough moment together and there was a slim possibility of interruption.

It was a beautiful, mad rush of ecstasy and bliss and Air Raid found himself more and more thrilled as their relationship continued. Never had he honestly dreamed that having these moments with his brother finally would be so... so... well, words just couldn't describe!

Air Raid couldn't help but to giggle.

Slingshot had seemed so shocked at first, spiking the red shih tzu -never having done so to anyone before- but he'd been such a lovely, pleasant fit...

And his nickname! The younger autodog had actually called out for him, using the childhood nickname he'd missed so greatly. Purring, Air Raid let his fingers circle a little closer around his valve, tempted to slide them in and rub along the sensor nodes inside. The slamming bathroom door halted the shih tzu from any such action.

"A-ack!"

Yelping in surprise, Air Raid spun around in the tub, slipping and crashing to the bottom. The shower curtain fluttered down on top of him, ripped free from its rings when Air Raid had grabbed it during his fall. Blushing in embarrassment, the red youngling smiled up at Slingshot as the torn curtain was yanked away; rubbing the back of his helm, where he could feel a small dent.

"H-hey, Slings. Came to join me?"

The grey mech huffed, optics narrowed tensely. Noticing his brother's foul mood, Air Raid slowly pushed himself back up, inadvertently drawing the other autodog's attention downwards. Slingshot's gaze fell to his hips, and Air Raid felt a quick chill run up his spinal strusts. "S-slings... I..."

The red mech hurriedly clicked his plating back in place, but not before Slingshot snapped, yanking him out of the tub and slamming the older youngling against the bathroom floor.

"Why did you have no seal!?," the grey shih tzu snarled.

Air Raid felt his spark pulsate weakly. "O-oh... you noticed that, huh? Listen, Slings, I-

His brother punched him. "How could you let someone else break it, Air Raid?!," Slingshot yelled, one servo wrapping loosely around Air Raid's throat. "I-i... I was sealed; I let you break mine. I should have been the only one to break yours! You s-said you loved me ... y-you-!"

Air Raid quickly grabbed Slingshot's servos, looking up at him pleadingly. "P-please, Slingshot! I-it... it wasn't my choice! If I could have, I would have saved it just for you!," he insisted, "But I was too small a-and weak, I-i..."

Slingshot slowly shuttered his optics as his brother trailed off, face painted with shock. "Y-you... Air Raid, were you..."

Air Raid glanced quickly to the side.

Licking his lip components anxiously, the grey youngling tried to speak through the growing knot in his throat. "W-when...?"

"...the first time they sent me away." Air Raid looked up at Slingshot, venting softly. "It was the first time they had separated us. If you remember, they sent me to a new home, all by myself...," he shared quietly, "I... There was a mech and a femme. They were to be my caretakers. But they had four other orphans to look after and the femme didn't bother to pay attention to me. The mech on the other hand... H-he... He liked to punish us. For no reason. For any reason. H-he'd grab you, p-pin you down... s-sometimes, h-he'd sling y-you over his knee, h-hold you there a-and beat you u-until y-you'd passed out from screaming and crying... I w-wanted to escape b-but I didn't know where I was o-or how to get back to you a-all. E-eventually, Si-silverbolt came and rescued me, b-but by then..."

When Air Raid trailed off this time, he did not continue.

After a klik of silence, Slingshot withdrew, sitting on the toilet. The red youngling slowly pushed himself up; turning off the shower and grabbing a towel. "Slings...?," he called softly, standing at the other's side. "...I'm sorry. I never told anyone and I-i thought... thought that, after so long, it didn't matter anymore. It's not like I remember much about the mech..."

Slingshot was staring down at the bathroom floor, his servos, Air Raid could see, curling into fists. "I... I wish you'd remember...," came the low growl, "...I-i'd hunt that mech down and _k-kill_ him for ever d-daring to put his spike in-"

Air Raid dropped to his knees, grabbing Slingshot's helm and making his brother look up at him. "I-is that what you think? T-that he was my first?," he smiled wryly, touched. "O-oh... Oh, Slings... The bastard may have broken my seal, but that was with his fingers. He never got the chance to put his spike in me... You, you are still my first."

The older autodog kissed his stunned brother.

"As you were meant to be."

Slingshot surprised him by grabbing the red mech by the waist suddenly, yanking him close as he slammed their mouths together. Moaning into the harsh, sloppy kiss, Air Raid smiled, wrapping his arm's around the smaller mech's shoulders.

"Mine... my Ar-Ra...," Slingshot muttered possessively against his mouth, in between kisses. His brother chuckled, spark swelling in euphoria.


	34. Air Raid and Slingshot IV

**Title: Air Raid and Slingshot IV  
Rating: M**

Slingshot tried not to growl when Air Raid sat on his lap.

"Again?," the smaller shih tzu grumbled, ignoring the heating of his cheekplates. He squirmed though when his brother's fingers reached down, unzipping his pants. "D-didn't you have enough, earlier?"

Air Raid chuckled softly as he traced a sharp digit along the youngling's codpiece; the metal retracting and a trembling spike pressurizing immediately into his waiting fist. Fondling the cable leisurely, the autodog cooed up at Slingshot, sliding his other servo under his brother's shirt.

"Oh, c'mon Slings," the older 'bot said, groping Slingshot's frame as he pressed closer, "Don't exaggerate. You know it's been a few days since we last 'faced... Sure you haven't been waiting impatiently for everyone else to leave so we could have a moment alone together?"

"I..." Slingshot cut himself off as he groaned, helm tipping back as Air Raid squeezed him tightly, allowing the other shih tzu a chance to lick at his neck cables. "O-oh primus!"

"That's what I thought," his brother smiled, tightening his fist around the youngling's spike again, trying to hold back his growl when wetness slicked his palm. "Besides," Air Raid added, "I think you're going to enjoy what I have in mind especially today."

As distracted as he was -with a hot glossa laving at his neck every few astroseconds, and with one servo groping the glass of his cockpit while the other was pumping him- Slingshot missed all of what the older mech had said. It was amazing that he even noticed Air Raid's weight lifting from his legs. Whining as his brother's servos slide off of his frame next, the grey autodog raised himself up on his elbows, shuttering his optics up at the other in surprise.

"A-air Raid...?," Slingshot ashamedly squeaked as he watched Air Raid toss his pajama pants over a shoulder plating, before slowly sinking down into the younger mech's lap -valve uncovered and heading straight for his erect cable.

"Yes?," the red mech groaned as the tip of the autodog's spike pressed against the rimming of his port, before the entire length slipped into his lubricating passage. Air Raid hissed as his valve was stretched fully for the first time, noting through the pleasured haze filling his processor that his brother, though not as long was certainly more thicker than himself. The way Slingshot felt -the ridges of his cable spreading the silken walls, bringing attention to sensor nodes once hidden and now being rubbed sensuously against the length- was absolutely perfect to the older shih tzu.

Slingshot had always been perfect in his optics anyhow...

Air Raid came back to his senses as he finally settled back down into his brother's lap, stuffed and ready for more, finding the youngling staring up at him with beautiful, puzzled optics and panting heavily. It wasn't hard to tell that Slingshot was now as equally charged as Air Raid.

"O-ooh... Slings," the older autodog whimpered, starting to gyrate his hips, his spike rubbing fleetingly on Slingshot's shirt as he leaned down to kiss the other mech. "Slings... you feel so good. So big..."

The grey shih tzu moaned into their kiss, wriggling under Air Raid in response. Giving a sharp gasp, the older autodog pushed himself back up, resting his servos on Slingshot's chestplates as he slowly lifted himself off of the other's spike. Before Slingshot could whine in protest at the retreating heat, Air Raid was dropping back down onto the younger mech's cable, drawing a quick groan from the both of them. Quickly, the red shih tzu repeated the action, increasing his speed just a tad.

"Ooh...oh! Slings!," the oldest sibling mewled, shuttering his optics in bliss at the pleasure zinging through his circuits. "Primus, S-slings! You're s-so perfect!"

Slingshot whimpered at the loving praise, squirming a little in unease. He almost couldn't handle the tender words on top of having his brother bouncing in his lap. Yipping as valve walls purposefully clenched tight around his spike, the youngling anxiously grabbed at Air Raid's hip plating, thrusting upwards on every one of the other's down swings.

Shivering at the brave touch that grasped about his waist, the older autodog mewled a second time, his servos fisting tightly in his brother's shirt as he struggled to lift himself up again. It was a challenge. All Air Raid could think of was the pleasure and the thrill of joy that shot through him when the smaller mech touched him of his own volition. It made him want to wrap his arms tightly around the other and kiss him senseless. But there was no time for that, especially not with Slingshot bucking up wildly, intent it seemed on keeping himself good and buried in the larger shih tzu's valve.

"Y-yes...oh, pr-primus, yes! Y-yes! Yes, yes, yes-yes-yes-yes-yes-yes-yes-yes-yes-yeeeeeees!"

The grey autodog keened desperately at his brother's passionate cries, finding himself more turned on by them then he'd ever thought. He still didn't get why Air Raid was suddenly wanting to be the bottom, as it were, but it was hard to question it when Slingshot found himself holding the reins of power here and having a wet valve squeeze him hungrily, as sweeter words came from the shih tzu currently riding him. Hiccuping, the youngling tightened his grip, trying to pull Air Raid closer as he felt himself quickly spiraling towards overload.

"A-ar-ra!"

"P-primus! Slings!" Air Raid choked. He dropped heavily into Slingshot's lap, almost overwhelmed with disbelief. The smaller shih tzu hadn't called him by their childhood nickname in ages... Spark swelling in love and desire, the red mech gathered enough strength to bounce faster; his valve clenching like a vice as he rode to the edge.

"A... Ar-ra! I-i can't- I'm g-gonna-"

"Y-yes, please!," the older brother moaned, "Ov-overload, Slings! I w-want to f-feel your tr-transfluids fi-filling my i-insides!

At the shameless, lewd request Slingshot could hold back no further; he howled to the ceiling above as he gave one last, upward thrust, his fingers digging into the other's seams as he shot his load into Air Raid's waiting valve. Feeling his passage overflow with the sticky mix, the red shih tzu keened, arching back as he overloaded as well. His own transfluid splattered across Slingshot's stomach plating, before Air Raid collapsed on the youngling, his whole frame trembling with the after shocks of ecstasy.

"Oh...," the older autodog cooed, slowly nuzzling under Slingshot's chin. "Ahh... Slings. I love you so much. So, s-so much..."

Air Raid lifted his helm, kissing Slingshot's cheekplate, before slowly rolling off of the smaller shih tzu and cuddling into his brother's side. Arms winding around the other's waist, the red mech pulled Slingshot close, twisting their sticky thighs around each other. Slingshot shyly hugged Air Raid back, giving into his exhaustion.

"Hey... want to do this again, sometime?," came his sibling's ironic question.

The younger shih tzu huffed sleepily, refusing to online his optics despite the burning of his cheekplates. "...moron..."

A snicker echoed after his words.


	35. Onslaught and Skydive VII

**Title: Blessing**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: His older brother confesses some lingering doubts**

"Are... are you sure about this?" Silverbolt scanned the others in the backyard -his happy and smiling brothers- before his gaze rested uncertainly on Onslaught by the barbeque; flipping steaks as he glared at Brawl's fingers sneaking for the propane tank.

Skydive smiled kindly into his drink, setting down his glass of lemonade and taking his older brother's servo. "Silverbolt... you know me. If I wasn't sure about any of this, do you think I would stay?," he asked wryly. "Besides, I'm Onslaught's wife now. It's only understandable that I move in with him."

"B-but..." The taller shih tzu sighed worriedly, taking his servo back and clasping the both of them together tightly in his lap as he plopped down on the bench beside the blue mech.

"But what, Silverbolt?," the younger autodog asked.

"...what about Fireflight? O-or Slingshot? Or-" Skydive quickly put a servo on the larger 'bot's shoulder, his optics dimmed and gazing in sympathy up at Silverbolt. The sight made the other autodog feel suddenly ashamed at his ridiculous behaviour. "I...," he mumbled, glancing again at the others, "I-i just don't like the fact that you won't be with us anymore, Skydive. I suppose a part of me always knew this would have to one day happen, but all the same, I don't like the idea of you living with this mech. Especially not his two sons."

"Well," the blue shih tzu said, a kind chuckle in his tone, "I won't be living with three grown mechs, if that's what is really concerning you. Brawl is unfortunately handicapped and couldn't manage on his own, so he will be staying with us, but Blast Off is already in the plans of packing his things to move on out. Onslaught tells me he has a mechfriend." Skydive smiled brightly, as if the thought of anyone in love was such a beautiful and spark-warming idea.

"And besides...," he continued softly, compassion filling his optics and smile, "You'll always be my brother and I will always be a part of this family. I just have a new family now too... Plus, I'm only a block away. You're welcome to visit anytime you want; I know Onslaught won't mind."

Silverbolt stared at his brother for the longest time, before the older autodog felt his shoulders slump with defeat; his optics filling with tears as he tried to keep his emotions from overwhelming him. "You've... grown up so much...," he whispered, a smile curling awkwardly around his lip components. Skydive was surprised when suddenly Silverbolt pulled him into a hug, squeezing him tightly.

"Please be happy," the other mech mumbled into his ear.

Skydive smiled, hugging his brother back. "Of course I will be," he promised.

**Title: Honeymoon**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: They're finally wed**

After the excitement of the orn, it was nice to finally call things finished and head for recharge. Slightly nervous, Skydive changed into his pajamas in the main bathroom, bidding both Brawl and Blast Off good night before heading into Onslaught's room. The kittycon himself was just getting out of the private bathroom and looked up at the shih tzu mutely, before turning his helm away a little bit; gesturing at the berth with a blush just tinging his cheekplates.

"I...um... guess we should get in now?"

Suddenly feeling nervous in the face of the serval's own shyness, Skydive slowly headed for the berth, rubbing his arm self-consciously. "I-i... I suspect that would be reasonable, yes. After all, w-we're married now a-and..."

Skydive trailed off, letting out a little gasp as he was suddenly lifted into the air and carried bridal-style towards the berth. Blushing, the autodog said nothing as he was laid down on the middle of the sheets, Onslaught climbing over top and merely hovering there, looking down on the smaller mech, before leaning forwards and capturing the other's mouth in a heated kiss. Moaning, Skydive arched up as best as he could into the kittycon's mouth; legs sliding apart with a little tremble as a large servo stroked down his growing belly.

Touch growing softer and softer until it was almost barely there, Onslaught lessened the kisses until the two mechs were only pecking each other at intervals; stopping altogether and bumping foreheads with Skydive gently as he grabbed the other's servo.

"I'm... sorry, that I couldn't give you a better bonding ceremony," the serval apologized remorsefully, his optics dim with contrite. "I'd have loved to have us bond together in a proper wedding, and for us to be somewhere special and private for our honeymoon. Instead, I've got you sharing my old berth, in my home, with my two oldest sons just down the hall and you already sparked, and-"

The autodog quickly interrupted Onslaught with another kiss, his servos grasping the older mech behind the helm and pulling him a little closer. "It's fine," Skydive smiled, nothing but love and content in his gaze, "Trust me. I don't need something extravagant or fancy to know that this day -this moment- is the best of my whole life. Besides, this was a better chance for my brothers to be more involved- not only with you, but your sons as well."

The shih tzu chuckled softly. "Did you see how happy Fireflight looked in his new blue dress and Breakdown's matching jumper? He was so proud of how cute it was."

Unable to resist, Onslaught smiled as well, rubbing olfactory sensors. "Yes... I was worried they may still be upset with me, but they seem happy. All of them. I'm glad to know they're feeling better," he said. "I love you."

"I love you too," Skydive replied, stroking the kittycon's cheekplate. "...We should probably go to sleep now though. We have a busy day tomorrow -being a new couple and all."

The serval smirked at the mischievous glint shining in the autodog's optics; a purr rumbling out of him softly as he rolled over to the side of the berth, spooning Skydive close and nuzzling the shih tzu's neck as he settled in for the night. "My gorgeous lil' wifey..."

The blue mech chuckled again, shuttering his optics, rubbing the new bonding ring that gleamed on his finger as he drifted off to sleep.

**Title: Breakfast**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: Skydive starts to settle into his new life**

Adjusting to life within the kittycon household wasn't that hard surprisingly. Onslaught rose about quarter to six every morning, and, used to his old schedule, Skydive rose himself at around seven. He would go downstairs, and seeing that Onslaught wasn't yet making breakfast, would get started on it so that they could eat when the kittycon came in.

The first time he'd done this, Onslaught had been so surprised and worried, he'd wanted to take over for the autodog. Skydive adamantly refused to let him do so, stating that if he could start cooking in his condition, then he could certainly finish.

Now, a few weeks in, this was almost common.

"Good morning Brawl," Skydive greeted warmly, setting a plate of freshly made waffles onto the table. The serval gave a roar of delight, stomping across the room and throwing himself into a chair excitedly. Skydive was amazed that it didn't crumple under the kittycon's heavy weight.

"THANK YOU MOMMY!"

Smiling wryly, the autodog poured syrup over his waffles, petting Brawl's helm as the older mech ripped into his breakfast. "You know, Brawl... you don't have to call me 'mommy'," the shih tzu explained, pouring a mug of coffee to go alongside Onslaught's own plate. "Calling me Skydive is fine. After all, I'm not your mommy and-"

"But you're married to daddy, yes?" the kittycon interrupted.

Skydive shuttered his optics at that.

"O-oh, well... um..."

Brawl smiled brightly, his face covered with syrup and waffle chunks. "Then your my mommy! I always wanted a mommy like you," he cheered, tail wagging merrily behind him. "A mommy that makes me yummy breakfast and gives me hugs and kisses and speaks really quietly and nice. I'm glad to have you for my mommy."

The kittycon leaned over in his seat, gently poking Skydive's belly before the shih tzu could stop him. "And I can't wait to have more brothers to play with!"

The autodog cocked his helm at Brawl, torn between smiling at the older mech's excitement for his unborn sparkling and the troubling words that came from Brawl's mouth. Before he could comment on it though, Onslaught was walking through the door, greeting both mechs and pecking his wife as he joined them for breakfast.

**Title: Phone Calls**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: The hormones must be driving him mad**

"Yes... I'm aware... Get right on it... Soon..."

Skydive stopped outside of Onslaught's office, ear lifting slightly at the voice that came on through the other side of the door. He couldn't make out what the serval was saying, but for some reason, hearing his vocalizer talking softly through the door made the autodog's spark wither uncertainly.

The blue mech looked back and forth, staring at the door, debating on whether or not he should he should step inside. Lately, Onslaught had been going into his office a lot and talking on the phone early in the morning with some unknown person -but he never invited Skydive inside, and it had been a while since the shih tzu had last been in the office.

"Get together... discuss with you soon..."

Those words dug a little, spreading a tiny seed of doubt and fear.

Skydive set a servo on his stomach, feeling the sparkling kick underneath the plating. They were restless this orn; kicking and twisting more often than they usually did. It was making him feel more nauseous than he could handle.

Quickly, the autodog turned and hurried away from the office door, tears filling his optics.

**Title: Surprise**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: Onslaught has a surprise for him**

Folding the last of the shirts, Skydive loaded the clean laundry back into the basket, grunting a little as he picked the slightly heavy load up. His backstruts protested a little, and a smaller voice in the back of his helm commented that probably he shouldn't be carrying stuff around so far along in his pregnancy, but the autodog refused to give in. It was just a small basket of laundry; he wasn't trying to lift a crate of spare parts or anything.

Slowly, Skydive made his way back upstairs, pausing as he came out into the hallway, taking a breather. He was understandably surprised when the basket was taken from his servos, turning around to see Onslaught smiling down on him.

"I've been looking for you," the kittycon said, leaning down and quickly pecking his wife. The shih tzu smiled back into the kiss, staring up at the older mech as he pulled away.

"Oh? How come?" A small, niggling doubt taunted at the back of his processor. Skydive knew he shouldn't listen to it, but with Onslaught avoiding him the past few orns and whatnot, it was hard not to fear the worse. He just hoped it was simple paranoia and nothing else...

At his inquiry, the serval merely grinned, shifting the basket so that he held it under one arm; looping the other around Skydive's waist and gently leading him to the staircase. "I have a surprise for you," he answered vaguely, grinning broadly. The autodog felt his spark give a little pulse, in both anticipation and anxiousness.

"Can I know what kind of surprise?," he asked as they headed up to the second landing. He smiled, to try and not come off as being upset. "Or is it too big a secret?" Onslaught merely chuckled, before directing him towards one of the berth rooms.

Skydive looked on in confusion as they approached the room that used to belong to Swindle, standing by silently as the kittycon grabbed the doorknob. "Now, shutter your optics? ...please?" Glancing at the green mech uncertainly, the shih tzu did as asked, listening as Onslaught opened the door. A servo was pressing gently at the small of his back shortly after, guiding him blindly into the room. "Alright," whispered the serval's warm rumble in his ear, "You can online them again..."

Slowly, spark whirling erratically now, the smaller mech did as told... gasping in disbelief as he saw the wondrous sight before him. Baby blue and soft yellow striped walls surrounded him on all sides, matching with their white and powder blue furniture. There was a crib, rocking chair, changing station, toy chest and a small gathering of plushies already sitting on top of the dresser against one of the walls. Pictures already hung on the wall just above the changing station and play area: him and Onslaught on their bonding day, Onslaught and his sons from a few stellar cycles back, and a recent one of Skydive and his brothers. A larger, empty frame hung between them all, waiting to be filled.

Onslaught walked into the room, hugging Skydive from behind; his large servos resting on the autodog's swollen belly. "...I wanted to have everything ready for when the baby came, and I wanted it to be a gift for you," he informed softly, "To remind you that you are everything to me, and that your family is also mine and vice versa. I'm sorry if I hurt you by keeping this is a secret until now."

"O-oh... oh Onslaught," Skydive choked, turning around and facing the kittycon. He was overwhelmed by this precious gift he had given him and both amazed that the older mech could see his concerns so easily. And to apologize for them too... "Thank you," the shih tzu said, cupping Onslaught's cheekplates and pulling him down for a kiss, "T-thank you so much. F-for this lovely surprise... for t-taking me for your wife... f-for... for everything!"

The serval purred as he received the autodog's chaste pecks, pressing in for a deeper kiss; tail twitching as he heard a soft moan escape Skydive. "I love you, Skydive," he murmured affectionately against the other's lip components.

Optics glimmered beautifully behind yellow frames. "I love you too, Onslaught."

**Title: Offer**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: Skydive needs to discuss something with Onslaught**

"Brawl...," Skydive mumbled distractedly as he hurried into the living room, "Where is Onslaught?"

The serval looked up from his colouring books for a moment, watching as his new mommy looked around the room anxiously. "Hmm? Oh, well, daddy's in the shed again," he answered, turning back to the page he had just been filling in.

"...the shed?" The autodog looked down on Brawl stretched out across the carpet quizzically, confused by the other mech's reply. They did indeed have a small shed in the backyard, but Onslaught never usually used it and it remained locked all other times. Why then would the green mech go there now?

The kittycon nodded his helm at Skydive's echo. "Uh-huh," he continued, optics on his book as he coloured in some monster's head, "Daddy goes out there to play with his toys. He says I can't come though."

"I...see...," Skydive replied, utterly perplexed now. Quickly, the autodog turned, heading out the kitchen door and to the shed at the back. His sparkling kicked restless as he approached the little door, debating for a moment as the shih tzu rested a servo on the door handle. Gathering his courage, Skydive rushed into the shed, stopping in alarm at the sight that met his optics once he was inside.

Guns -from all types of models and sizes- lined the walls, crates of ammunition laying at their bases. Other crates were torn open a little bit, containing different types of bombs, grenades, gas masks and blades. The shed was a general store of destruction, and sitting calmly in the middle of it all, was Onslaught. He paused in his work, setting down both the cleaning rag and the sniper rifle he held in his servos, as he turned his blank face to the autodog.

"Skydive..."

"Y-you...," Skydive tried to keep his breathing even, optics unwillingly glancing around from item to item. "S-so...this is what you do in your spare time, I s-suppose?"

Onslaught slowly rose to his pedes, approaching the frazzled shih tzu. "...You weren't supposed to see any of this," he said, "This was just going to be temporary until-"

Skydive threw his servos up into the air, walking around the kittycon and further into the shed. "Please, do not lie to me!," he interrupted testily. "I would have found out that you were a mercenary sooner of later, Onslaught. Don't disrespect my intelligence like this."

The serval stood near the doorway flabbergasted, walking up to the antsy autodog, his brow furrowed. "...really? You knew?"

The blue mech refrained from scoffing, his pede starting to tap away anxiously. "Yes, in a way. I mean, it's not like you go to the office or own a store. You're usually home, having secret phone calls in your office. You also have a proficient and rich military background... You'd be best suited for the work, and depending on the 'client', you would get a fair amount of pay. More than enough to support your extensive family." Skydive glanced at the gun lying on the table, slowly reaching out for it with a trembling servo. Before he was even close enough to touch it though, the shih tzu turned away, throwing himself into the chair Onslaught had vacated earlier. "H-he... he's back...," he whispered darkly.

Onslaught dropped to his knees before the autodog, gently grasping one of Skydive's shaking servos. "Whose back, Skydive?," he asked, tipping the other's chin up with his free servo. "And does none of this really bother you? ...That I'm a killer?" His ears were half-lowered with worry; the fear of rejection well hidden from his face.

"Slaggit- no Onslaught! It doesn't!," Skydive yelled, his emotions finally getting the best of him. "I don't- that mech is back! That, that... V-vortex! Slingshot saw him leaving Fireflight's room the other day. He's come back for my baby brother and I don't like it!"

The shih tzu ripped his servo from the kittycon's grasp, burying his face into them as frustrated tears started welling into his optics. "I wish he'd never come back! He shouldn't be around Fireflight -he shouldn't be getting away with what he's doing! Lock him up, put him away in solitary... S-send him far away where he'll never be able to get back to Fireflight again! I don't want my baby brother to be hurt by him anymore!"

"...I wish it were that simple..."

Skydive looked up, wiping at the tears trailing down his cheekplates, his expression both confused and suspicious. "Wh-what... what do you mean it's not that simple! I-i'll call the cops today! I'll give them a testimony; I'll-"

Onslaught shook his helm, gently cupping the smaller mech's face. "You must understand something, Skydive," he explained quickly as he saw the autodog open his mouth to protest, "All of my sons, with the exception of the youngest, have all been trained with the same skills that I have. Each and everyone of them is proficient with a weapon, long-range fighting and hand-to-hand combat... Vortex especially has been educated in subterfuge, interrogation and... tracking. He's been imprisoned in several penitentiaries across the globe, of which at least five were maximum security federal prisons, and he's escaped all of them within twenty-four hours of being processed."

"Prison," the serval continued regretfully, "Will do you no good. Vortex will get out and he will find your baby brother again. It's what he does, and it's what he likes. If you want him gone..." Onslaught trailed off for a moment, his optics lifting to the gun on the table. Skydive's gaze followed. "...it has to be a permanent solution. One that I will fulfill, if you so wish it."

The autodog stared at the sniper rifle, its muzzle gleaming in the mute light of the shed; repeating Onslaught's words in his helm as his servos cradled his belly anxiously.

**Title: Midnight Madness**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: He awakes in the middle of the night**

Onslaught stirred from recharge, with the sense that something was amiss. Groggily, his servo stretched across the berth, wanting to pull Skydive to his frame. But his fingers only felt cold sheets. Optics onlining fully now, the kittycon stared mutely at the autodog's spot, finding it empty and void of the one who usually filled it. Slowly, he sat up.

Since he'd half-confessed, been half-caught about what he did for a career by Skydive last week, the shih tzu seemed to have grown quieter around him. Skydive had stopped humming while he worked, refrained from greeting the serval with kisses all the time -he'd even cut back on talking to Onslaught much, which concerned him greatly. Onslaught didn't want to admit it, but he was scared.

Scared he was once again going to lose something he thought was good.

Getting to his pedes, the kittycon decided to wander downstairs; partially to see where Skydive might have gotten to, and another to go occupy himself with the relics in his office. He was distracted from the latter when he heard something drop in the kitchen before being followed by a pained whimper. That was Skydive!

Onslaught ran down the rest of the stairs, hurrying into the kitchen to find the autodog collapsed on the floor in front of the open fridge; a carton of milk dropped on its side and spewing its contents everywhere. The mess was the least of his concern though. What had the serval's attention was the way Skydive was clutching his belly, optics shuttered tight as he panted for air.

"S-skydive?! Skydive, are y-you alright?" The green mech fell to his knees, uncertainly pulling Skydive towards him; attempting to cradle him while still torn about where to put his servos exactly. "W-what's wrong? I-is it- a-are you h-having a miscar-"

Amazingly, the autodog smiled up at the other, before he gritted his denta together again with a hiss. "I-it's alright, Onslaught," Skydive chuckled after the pain ebbed enough away. He grabbed the serval's servo and pressed it to his belly. "T-they're coming..."

"O-oh, oh alright...," Onslaught mumbled, "They're coming... They're coming... oh, PRIMUS! They're coming!" The kittycon pulled back in a fluster, scrambling upwards for the kitchen phone.

Skydive watched as he commed for an ambulance, unable to hold back one or two more chuckles at the other's panic; servos grasping his belly again as the contractions started up once more. The autodog was thankful for the kiss that came after Onslaught had finished on the phone, grateful for any small distraction, and made sure to kiss his bondmate back just as equally strong as he was lifted up in strong arms and carried for the front door.


	36. Vortex and Fireflight VI

**Title: Scare**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: There's a monster waiting in the dark**

Little, violet optics shuttered open slowly, finding himself cool and alone. Sniffling softly, the bornling began to roll over in his crib, confused by the chill he could feel running up and down his backstruts. The poor little thing froze as he ended up on his back, the sight of his beloved mobile hidden behind the dark, looming shape hanging over his berth.

A band of red gleamed brightly in the darkness; a line parting and unfolding into a grinning mouth of sharp, sharp teeth.

His first instinct was to open his mouth and wail loudly for his carrier, but all sound escaped the bornling entirely as the shadow leaned forward. Something cold and sharp pressed against his tiny throat, solid against his rapidly thrumming energon line.

The shadow slowly shook a finger side to side, the red band winking viciously at him.

Wetness seeped through the cotton, and the grinning shadow literally beamed as he watched the bornling pee through his diaper, so obviously overcome with terror that the hybrid's stressed systems could do nothing else. Apparently pleased with this juvenile bout of mayhem, the shadow leaned back again, taking the cold dagger's blade away with him too.

He could only watch silently in horror as the shadows slunk then for the little berth where his carrier slept, undisturbed by nightmares; his larger servo running down the slumbering shih tzu's backstruts softly as he leaned over him. Was the monster going to eat him?

And then the shadow was gone, slinking for the window and out of it as silently as he had come in. Terrified, the bornling still did not make a sound; afraid that if he did, it would call the scary thing back.

**Title: Plea**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: He only wants Vortex to stay**

Fireflight hummed as he cleaned the nursery, putting away Breakdown's toys and putting extra diapers on the change station for later. He was just setting up the powders and wipes neatly when he felt a servo circle around his waist, yanking him away from the stand. "V-vortex...," the autodog smiled, turning his helm and seeing that red visor glowing down on him.

The lynx grinned, his visor dimming viciously as he lifted Fireflight up, cupping the shih tzu to his chestplates. "Hmm... Eager to see me, snowflake? You going to give me a kiss too?"

At his taunting suggestion, the sparkling blushed, before shyly leaning up the last of the distance and pecking Vortex softly on his grinning mouth. Stunned, the kittycon stared down at Fireflight, watching him quietly for a few astroseconds. Smiling brightly, the shih tzu settled back down in Vortex's arms, resting his helm on the other's broad shoulders for a moment, sighing happily.

"I missed you lots, Vortex," he confessed sweetly. "I miss you more and more every time you're gone. Will you come back home? If you do, then I... I can see you all the time! A-and I'll give you all the kisses you want!" Fireflight pushed away enough to turn his pleading optics up to the kittycon. "P-please, Vortex? I worry!"

Vortex ran a finger down the autodog's cheekplate, watching as Fireflight turned into the touch, giving a little shiver. "...maybe," he answered, his mouth twisting upwards in a mischievous smirk, "You make such a tempting offer, cutie, but... I think something more is needed. I don't think kisses will be enough."

The shih tzu shuttered his optics shyly, his cheekplates tinging magenta with his blush. "W-what...," he asked softly, "W-what w-would you l-like?"

The lynx licked his lip components, loving the way that Fireflight blushed darker at the sight; one servo lifting to his mouth in innocent hesitance. "Well, I can think of a few ideas," he purred lewdly, visor gleaming.

Fireflight glanced around cautiously, but Breakdown was outside with his brothers and there was no one else around to see. Turning his attention back to Vortex, he leaned up again, planting a chaste kiss on the side of the kittycon's mouth. "O-okay," he stuttered willingly.

The mech chuckled darkly before setting the shih tzu on the change table, spreading his legs open as he swept in for a hungry kiss.

**Title: Talk**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: Skydive shares Onslaught's words with his family**

Silverbolt hurried into the living room the moment Onslaught opened the door for them. "S-skydive! What is it? What's wrong?," he asked anxiously, dropping onto the couch beside his brother; grabbing his servos. Air Raid followed behind slower. "When you called and said it was urgent, I didn't-"

"Please Silverbolt," Skydive weakly smiled. "I'm alright, see? There's just... a matter I wanted to discuss with you all."

These words hardly calmed the oldest shih tzu's frazzled nerves, but he forced himself to let go of Skydive's servos anyways, glancing up uncertainly at the kittycon that circled around behind the other autodog. "What...," he swallowed slowly, "Was it that you wanted to discuss?"

Skydive's polite expression crumbled as he sighed, servos curling into fists in his lap. "S-slingshot... Slingshot told me that he saw that... mech... sneaking out of Fireflight's window the other night. I, I don't want to blame you or anything, but I know you didn't want to tell me Silverbolt." He smiled sadly at his brother. "You know how I worry, just as much as you."

Onslaught set a servo on the blue mech's shoulder plating as he sighed again, helm lowering as he took a moment to compose himself. In the silence, Silverbolt flustered, hurrying to explain himself. "I-i'm sorry I didn't tell you, S-skydive! I j-just didn't want you to w-worry when y-you were so far al-along and knowing t-that he w-was-"

"I-it's... it's alright, Silverbolt," Skydive interrupted kindly. "Please. I... I'm not mad at that, and again, it's not why I asked you to come here today. I... I wanted to discuss a possible solution..."

That caught the other two autodogs' attention. Air Raid straightened up, sitting himself down in the armchair, leaning forward in his seat seriously. "So that's why you only wanted the two of us to come..."

At the statement, Skydive nodded, looking at each of his brother's in turn. "Because of... Vortex's training, Onslaught can vouch that normal routes of action would be unavailable to us. He... he won't be stopped, and he will more than certainly return to harass Fireflight. It's what he...," the shih tzu tried not to scowl, "Likes. What he finds fun."

Silverbolt squirmed a little in his seat, obviously unnerved now. "Are you...," he glanced at Onslaught again, optics flared, "Are you... honestly suggesting what I think you are?! Skydive, how-"

Skydive quickly grabbed his brother's servos, looking at him pleadingly. "Please, don't judge! I know it's horrible, but... but, after the war, Onslaught and a select handful of ex-soldiers were signed on by the government for various work. He explained to me already and... and they have connections. T-they could hire someone to take care of Vortex! It would all be hush-hush and Fireflight would finally be safe from him! Can't you see how beneficial this would be, Silverbolt?"

The taller autodog opened his mouth in horror, but it closed shortly after, his optics dropping to the side as he actually mulled over what the younger one had said. The room grew tenser as they waited to hear what the oldest shih tzu would say. "W-well...," Silverbolt stuttered, "Maybe... Maybe w-we c-could-?"

"Would you just listen to you all..."

Helms turned to Air Raid, the red shih tzu staring at them all with disgust. "How can you sit here and talk about murdering another 'bot like it's... it's... nothing!?," he demanded angrily. "Don't you see what's wrong with this?!"

"It's just not some random 'bot, Air Raid," Skydive frowned, one servo cupping under his belly tersely. "This is Vortex that we're talking about. The very mech that has ruined our lives..."

"And the same one who led Silverbolt to meet Trailbreaker and for you to meet Onslaught, and for us to have a beautiful home and not have to worry about the System ever again!," the youngling quickly retorted, "You can't just say he ruined our lives, when even everything terrible he has done has led us right here to this moment."

Silverbolt leapt to his pedes. "But he has hurt your baby brother! Does that mean nothing to you?!"

"Of course it does!," Air Raid snapped back, hackles raised. "Don't you dare for an astrosecond ever imply that I have never cared about Fireflight's well-being, 'Bolt! We've all looked out for him the same, and he still ended up in this situation, and you want to know why? Because he chose to! This is something that Fireflight has chosen out of his own free will!"

"Don't," the blue shih tzu hissed, optics narrowed behind his frames, "You dare use that as an excuse, Air Raid.."

"Fireflight is a child!," Silverbolt added quickly. "He does not know nearly enough about the world to be giving any sort of consent!"

"Well maybe he does!," Air Raid screamed, drowning out anything else his brother's were going to say. Onslaught did not intervene; glancing frequently from the sidelines, double-checking that Skydive was alright. "I mean... Primus!," the younger sibling shouted, "He gave birth to a sparkling for crying out loud -one that he's proven to be amazingly efficient at caring for all by himself! You can't keep saying that he's a child, when it's very obvious that Fireflight is growing up. Even before Breakdown, he was always very insightful. Fireflight is a lot smarter than you're giving him credit for and you saying he's nothing but a sparkling is just insulting."

"But he is, Air Raid!," Skydive retorted angrily. "He isn't-"

The red shih tzu raised a servo, pointing a sharp finger at his older brother as he snarled. "Wrong. Fireflight is a youngling now. Why don't you two get it through your thick helms," he continued, looking between Silverbolt and Skydive each. "You can't keep treating him like he's five... One day, Fireflight will be a full-fledged mech, and he won't need your servos to hold onto anymore. What are you going to do then? Still call him a child and try to spoon feed him?"

"I... I can't believe you're honestly defending that... that... fragger!," Silverbolt cursed, his optics wide with disbelief and disappointment. "How could you, Air Raid? How-"

"I'm not defending him!," Air Raid yelled, fists clenching at his sides. "Primus, are none of you listening to me?! I want to see that fragger in a pool of his own energon as much as you do, but I'm saying stay out of it! This isn't our choice to make!"

"Because...," the youngling softened his tone, sighing wearily, "Because as much as we don't like it, he still makes Fireflight happy. And until such a time when he does not... we have no right to do anything. We've got to let Fireflight grow up sometime, you know..."

The room was silent. Glancing one last time at his brothers, Air Raid turned around and left; shaking his helm as he hurried from the living room. Neither Silverbolt or Skydive attempted to stop him. Onslaught watched as the youngling ran past the living room window and across the yard to the street, before he returned his attention back to the two mechs staring remorsefully at each other. What their younger brother had said struck the oldest shih tzus hard; it would take time for them to digest Air Raid's words and respond.

Silently, Onslaught left the living room as well, heading to the kitchen to make a pot of tea.

**Title: Happy**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: He needs clarification**

"Ar-Ra...?"

Fireflight padded softly into the room, watching as his older brother folded the last of his shirts, packing it away quietly in a suitcase. At his soft call, Air Raid paused, turning and facing the smaller mech. "Hey, Firefly," he smiled sadly.

The white shih tzu canted his helm to the side slightly, his optics dim and worried. "You're leaving... aren't you?," he asked, knowing without a doubt that was the case. Air Raid glanced at his packed suitcase, before turning his gaze back to his baby brother, sighing in regret.

"Yes. I can't stay any longer," the youngling answered, zipping up the suitcase and walking towards the door.

Fireflight kindly stepped out of his way, servos wringing themselves nervously before his frame. "Y-you'll... you'll come back though, right?," he called out, "I'm not never going to see you again, right Ar-Ra?"

Air Raid stopped, setting the suitcase down and facing his younger brother. That sad smile was back on his face as he knelt before the smaller shih tzu, taking Fireflight's servos into his own. "We'll see each other again, one day," he promised, optics dim. "But I must go and spread my roots elsewhere. You understand that, don't you Fireflight?"

The white autodog nodded slowly, sniffling a little.

Air Raid searched his brother's face, before he pressed his lip components together tightly; giving Fireflight's servos a light squeeze. "Fireflight... Tell me why you like Vortex," he requested softly.

Fireflight shuttered his optics in surprise at the request, but he smiled anyway, a glimmer of joy shimmering through the tears collected in his optics. "B-because, he makes me happy," the little shih tzu answered. "I... I know you don't like Vortex, but he's really not bad. He says funny stuff to make me laugh, and he brings me gifts to show that he likes me. When I'm sad, he cheers me up, and when I'm hurt, he comforts me. Sometimes... I get sad when he's not there... especially when I really wanted to see him... but he always comes back, without fail. And when he does, he says he's sorry and hugs me."

"When," Fireflight continued, cheekplates colouring slightly with his affection, "When I'm with Vortex, all the bad stuff seems to go away. I don't have to feel scared, or lonely, or sad anymore. He protects me and he cares for me... That's why I love him."

The very definition of love.

Lip components quirking upwards queerly, Air Raid leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his brother's brow. "Be happy, Fireflight," he mumbled, quickly giving the other shih tzu a hug. Fireflight wound his arms around his neck, squeezing back tightly before releasing the youngling and letting him stand up once more.

Fireflight did not cry or ask confusing questions, instead, watching as Air Raid walked downstairs and out the front door. Smiling sadly, he wished his brother good luck, before turning and padding for Breakdown's room.

**Title: Outcomes**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: There's only so many paths left when everything else has been rejected**

"Congratulations...," the voice growled as Vortex attempted to sneak through the attic, "...You're _slagged_."

The lynx only had an astrosecond to feel his spark jolt in surprise before a fist was slamming into his neck cables; wrapping tight around the cords and crushing them as the mech was knocked to the floor. The wood groaned loudly at his fall, the whole room spinning. Visor winking in his pain, Vortex tried to stop his aching processor from twisting and winding, forcing his gaze to focus on the ceiling above.

He coughed and offered a weak grin as Onslaught's face pushed into his line of sight.

"H-hey... d-daddy-o," he hissed cheerfully.

Onslaught squeezed Vortex's neck cables tighter, lifting him up and slamming him back down against the floor for extra measure. "Believe you me," he snarled, "If I had a choice, it would be the cold end of my muzzle you'd be greeting, not me."

"S-still...," the lynx coughed, "S-still u-upset t-that t-the l-lil' pup e-ended up r-running away f-from you t-that f-first time?"

"And whose fault was that?!," the green mech roared. He punched Vortex, watching as the smaller kittycon spat energon across the attic floor. "Here I thought you'd gone off and scampered somewhere far away for good... Only to find out that you've been sneaking around the city, making frequent visits to a certain sparkling we all know." He punched the lynx again.

"And also you've been sneaking into my house..." Onslaught narrowed his optics, fangs bared at his son. "Bold, _bold_ move, brat... Did you think I wouldn't notice that my food was missing? Or that certain things had been moved around in your room? It would take a giant fool not to predict your course of actions, and I..." He crushed Vortex's neck cables once more. "Am _no_ fool."

The grey mech writhed and choked, claws scraping up and down Onslaught's arm; trying to wriggle out of his centre of balance and trip the older 'bot up. But the serval was good... well-trained and experienced... Vortex's cheap tricks would not work on him. Sniffing in disgust, Onslaught let his son go before he blacked out, standing up and kicking the lynx in the side for the fun of it.

"Well, since you're here anyway, there's a few things we need to discuss," he began, walking to the attic door. He shut and locked it, turning next and barring the little window in the room. Satisfied that Vortex would not be running off anytime soon, the serval turned, seating himself in a chair that the other kittycon could not recall ever having been there before.

Wheezing and hacking lightly in pain, Vortex pushed himself up, wiping the energon off of his face. He stared, unimpressed at his sire, as the other kittycon pulled out a dagger and block of wood, whittling away as he sat in his chair.

"Now, you're probably wondering why I haven't killed you yet," Onslaught continued casually. "Again, not my choice. After all the slag you've done, I'd love to string you up by your nasty, little spike and flay you alive, son. To bash in your helm and put an end to your sick, little games would bring me no end of joy... unfortunately, to the chagrin of my wife and I, I can't. You see..." He twirled his piece of wood idly. "The little one's family has discussed it, and one of the younger ones -Air Raid, I believe- brought up a good point. Somehow, someway, you make my son-in-law happy..."

"Now, I wouldn't want to upset lil' Fireflight, who's sadness would in turn upset my grandson and also my wife, henceforth including my soon-to-be bornling as well... so, killing you is no longer an option," he explained, cutting away at the wood again.

The lynx's tail twitched. "...you have a point?," he croaked.

Onslaught sent the grey mech a vicious glare. " _Silence_ you. I did not give you the permission to _speak_." He worked away at carving for a couple kliks, before he started speaking again. "Because of this... delicate situation, an alternative course of action is being taken. As you obviously mean so much to Fireflight... you will now be a permanent fixture in his life..."

"...what?," Vortex gaped.

The serval smirked. "You will be moving back here and live in your pathetic, attic room, where I can keep a constant optic on you. You will visit Fireflight and Breakdown every day, whether it be here or at his house, and you will be under constant surveillance. Seventy-five percent of your finances will be transferred over into a bank account accessible only to Fireflight, with the intent of giving the lil' one all the funds he needs to support himself and Breakdown."

"Seeing as you knocked him up in the first place," Onslaught explained, ignoring the lynx's shell-shocked expression, "It's only fitting that you accept your role as Breakdown's sire and assist in his upbringing. Though if you hurt that child in any way, I shall break every pipe in your body..." The serval snarled dangerously, fixing the other kittycon with a glower. "Fireflight thinks you are something good. We all know otherwise. But because he cares for you so deeply, you shall be there for him. The moment you hurt him, or the moment when he discovers what you really are... I'll be there, with my gun. Don't think for an astrosecond that I won't."

At the threat, the grey mech's hackles rose; cracked visor flashing in rage. "W-who are you t-trying to fool, o-old-timer?," Vortex hissed. "Y-you can't do anything! You're w-washed out! I'm a free mech! I can do whatever I-"

The green kittycon rose to his pedes, taking one step forward and back-handing the lynx- hard. Yelping in pain, Vortex dropped to the attic floor, clasping his face in his servos. Rolling his optical sensors, Onslaught turned away from his son and walked casually for the door. "You should consider it a blessing," he called over his shoulder plating as he undid the lock. "For once, there's a 'bot in this world who doesn't consider you a psychotic, raping scumbag. Maybe you should learn to appreciate him..."

Ignoring the soft groan that echoed behind him, the serval opened the door, stepping out of the attic and locking Vortex in once again.


	37. Air Raid and Slingshot V

**Title: Complication**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: He'd hoped their problems were over**

He wasn't stupid. Air Raid pulled his pants up, shakily walking towards the counter; a small, plastic device carried in one servo. He glanced quickly at his reflection in the mirror, before turning his optics away, avoiding himself entirely.

He wasn't stupid.

He'd spent enough time with his brothers and experienced the same slag as them, that when something was out of place with himself, it would become noticeable right away. And Air Raid was uneasy to admit that something felt out of place...

Trying to shake off his feeling of foreboding, the shih tzu quickly washed his servos; splashing water on his face and grasping for a towel. His optics fell immediately to the white counter top, staring at the thin, purple stick lying their innocently. The small, pocketed red plus sign on its one end was not so innocent.

He wasn't stupid...

But that didn't make him any luckier either.

Fuel tans roiling suddenly at the confirmation, Air Raid leaned against the counter top, servos shaking against the wood as his processor raced. It felt like he'd stood there for millenia, but was more than likely only for a couple kliks -long enough for him to come to a decision. Graduation was just a couple months away...

It should be enough time. It would have to be enough time.

Sighing, Air Raid looked up into the mirror, surprised to find tears rolling down his cheekplates. "It'll be alright...," he smiled to himself. It was almost soothing to see his reflection trying to comfort him back. "It'll have to be..."

Grabbing the stick, the shih tzu snapped it in half, shoving the plastic deep into the bottom of the trash can; making sure it was good and buried from view, before turning and leaving the bathroom with a grin.

**Title: Cake**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: There's a surprise waiting for him at home**

Air Raid shifted his backpack as he approached his house, noticing that the mailbox at the front lawn was full; its tag shifted down and a couple envelopes sticking out from its mouth stubbornly. Curious, the shih tzu altered his course, stopping in front of the mailbox. He paused to make sure no one was around to see, before yanking the mail out, thumbing through it quickly. There were at least three reply letters from several Academies, two of them large packages.

Spark starting to sputter quickly, Air Raid stared at the one envelope that carried a small, city symbol that he was not familiar with. Tucking the others under his arm, he quickly unzipped his backpack and shoved the one letter in among his things, hiding it from view before slinging his bag over his shoulder plating and heading for the house finally.

The youngling barely was inside for five astroseconds before glittering paper was exploding in his face, accompanied by loud, cheerful cries of "SURPRISE!"

"W-what...," Air Raid grinned, stepping back, looking from each of his brothers in a mixture of confusion and joy. "What's all this for, huh?"

"For getting into the Academy!," Firefight chirped, bouncing a happily cooing Breakdown lightly.

"For finishing highschool, he means," Silverbolt corrected kindly, taking all the empty party crackers from everyone's servos. "A graduation is a big accomplishment, especially when completing secondary. It means you've gone through one big hurdle in your life and now, you have millions of doorways open to you."

"Well, he still did get a bunch of letters from local academies, saying that he'd been accepted to all of their programs."

"That is true," Skydive noted from the couch. Surprisingly, he was there, accompanied by Onslaught and Trailbreaker, who had been visiting more frequently than many of them would have guessed. Both mechs sat on either side of the shih tzu, each glancing at him every few kliks, checking to see that he was alright. Even though he was cupping his swollen belly, Skydive looked every bit a happy 'bot, and that in itself was enough to make Air Raid beam as he faced his brother. "You've done so much, Air Raid, even preserving through... well... a fairly hectic year, but you've grown handsomely then. We're really proud of you."

A round of confirmations came from everyone. Overwhelmed, Air Raid stood there uncertainly in the doorway, trying to think of a proper response to give, before his family got tired of his silence and playfully yanked him into the living room. Fireflight tickled Breakdown momentarily, before grabbing a quiet Slingshot's wrist and pulling the both of them out of the room, just as Silverbolt gently urged for the red youngling to sit on the love seat.

Air Raid was surprised when his two younger brothers came back into the room, Slingshot carrying a cake in his servos and Fireflight skipping excitedly beside him. "We got you a cake!," the littlest autodog exclaimed, "'Bolt got all the ingredients and him and Skydive worked to bake it, and then me and Slings decorated it. It's your favourite too -chocolate!"

"Thanks guys," Air Raid vented softly, servos shaking a little as he reached out for the cake. He smiled up at Slingshot, giving him a quick wink, hoping that his younger brother especially knew how much this meant to him. "You guys really didn't have to do this for me, honest."

"Nonsense."

"It was fun!"

"You're our brother, Air Raid -of course we'd celebrate every one of your achievements! We love you!"

Touched, the shih tzu smiled brightly at each of his siblings, trying to ignore the heat slicking his optics. "And I love you guys too... Now, if this is a party, let' Y!"

**Title: Blessing**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: He's given an unexpected gift**

"For you," the serval said.

Air Raid shuttered his optics, staring in disbelief at the slip of paper in the kittycon's fingers. It fluttered as Onslaught waved it; silently insisting that the youngling take it. Not wanting to be rude -or, otherwise, upset the bigger mech- the shih tzu uncertainly grabbed the cheque, looking at it again incredulously. He was practically floored when he saw the sum penned across the amount line.

"I-i... I can't take this!," he protested, trying to shove the cheque back at Onslaught. The kittycon refused to lift his arms or take the slip of paper back; grabbing the youngling's wrist and gently lowering his arms.

"Keep it," Onslaught said lowly, "I'm proud to see you pursuing something so distinct and important to you. I wish to help you succeed, if at all possible. Without this, both you and I know college would be out of your budget... and we know how much your brothers wish to see you get farther in life than them."

At the statement, Air Raid stopped struggling. He looked, with flared optics, up at the serval; suddenly realizing how much this mech actually knew about his family... and how good he was. "Y-you..."

Onslaught raised an optic ridge at the chopped reply. "Yes...?"

Air Raid didn't answer back. To both the kittycon's and his own surprise, he threw himself at the bigger mech instead; wrapping his arms as far as they would go around the older mech's wide frame, face pressed into his chestplates. They stood there for almost a klik; each frozen in their own actions, before Onslaught uncertainly lifted a servo, patting the youngling on the back.

"Y-you, um...," he gruffed uncomfortably as Air Raid slowly pulled back. "You should g-go back to the celebrations... i-it's your g-graduation party, a-after all..."

Wiping quickly at his face, Air Raid nodded, slightly embarrassed now at his bold action. He stepped around the serval to head back to the living room, but paused before he got very far. "Onslaught...?," he called softly, turning his helm to the other mech. Onslaught gave him his full attention silently. "T...thank you," the shih tzu smiled shyly, "For e-everything."

The serval's ears perked slightly at the unexpected gratitude, but the kittycon's expression softened still, a small smile of his own appearing on the old faceplates. "You're welcome, pup. But let's keep this a secret between the two of us, alright?," he asked jokingly.

Air Raid chuckled, nodding, before strutting merrily for his brothers in the other room.

**Title: Insomnia**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: There's no hope for rest with troubles filling his helm**

It was quiet in the house; dark too. Slingshot lay in his berth, staring across the room at Air Raid's backstruts, unable to sleep. He knew why he wasn't able to settle down and recharge like his brother was so capable of doing, but that didn't make it any less easier on him.

Exams.

It had to be because of exams and his graduation ceremony coming up and everything. That's why the older youngling had been ignoring him recently, keeping their interactions to a bare minimum. It was the only reason.

...it had to be...

Otherwise, what reasons did Slingshot have to console himself with? If he thought everything that they had gone through to get to this point now was a waste, a lie... It would kill him. Plain and simple. Air Raid was the one brother he could not afford to lose. Trying to swallow back the rising clot of fear that was growing in his vocalizer, the youngling shuttered his optics, forcing himself to vent deeply.

He onlined them again a klik later to see blue optics glowing back at him from across the room -Air Raid was awake.

"...hey," the older shih tzu whispered softly, a smile growing slowly on his face, "Couldn't sleep?"

Slingshot didn't reply.

The blankets lifted and folded over as Air Raid raised a servo, gesturing for the grey youngling to come over. He didn't even hesitate before scrambling out of berth and diving under the other's sheets. A part of him wanted to shove his brother down into the mattress, kiss him and get into his pajama pants... but another side of him was suddenly too scared to do it. Slingshot felt that if he did any of that, Air Raid might suddenly break or shatter underneath him. He didn't know why but... it was a feeling he couldn't shake, and he'd do everything to keep this moment going.

Laying down, Slingshot nuzzled under the older mech's chin for an astrosecond. Air Raid chuckled softly at the action, wrapping his arm around the shorter shih tzu's waist, before pulling back, nudging their olfactory sensors together shortly.

"...sorry I've been ignoring you the past week," the red youngling apologized. Slingshot tried to keep his gaze level with Air Raid, but couldn't after a klik. Still, the older mech smiled, hugging the other just a little bit tighter. "Remember when you always got lost...?"

Slingshot remembered. That was back in the bad orns -before Silverbolt got them a home of their own. "Yeah...," he mumbled back, "You always came and found me again. No matter what."

"What..." Air Raid paused in his whisper. "What if I happened to get lost...?"

The grey shih tzu shuttered his optics in confusion, tilting his helm, trying to look at the other autodog. But he couldn't see Air Raid's face from this angle, and sleep was finally creeping up on him. "What you talking about, Ar-Ra," he mumbled sleepily, frame relaxing on the sheets, "You never get lost."

Air Raid looked down at Slingshot, watching as he drifted off into recharge at last. His optics dimmed as he saw how the younger shih tzu relaxed completely -no anger, no confusion, no sign of worry or fear on his faceplates. Slingshot didn't understand how lucky he really was... And he really didn't want to be the one to take that away from him...

"Sweet dreams, Slings," he whispered against the other's helm; pressing a kiss to his ear, "Always r-remember that I love you..."

"...I'm sorry..."

**Title: Smoke and grease**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: He's at the corner-stop of his life**

_'Thank you for your application. We are honoured to say that you have been accepted and...'_

Air Raid lifted his optics from the paper, already aware of what the rest of the words said. They'd been words he'd studied for orns before finally sending in his confirmation. The college had sent back an immediate response, attached to the tuition fees and the deadline for paying -something that he would be doing in person.

Folding the slightly crumpled paper up, the shih tzu tucked the letter into the front pocket of his suitcase, turning his attention away from the other patrons still taking taking their seats on the bus and staring out the window to the smoggy station beyond. Alone with his thoughts now, the doubt started creeping back in.

_You still have time to leave_ , a small voice whispered in the back of his helm, _Time enough to get off; take your things back home. No one would ever have to know about you leaving._

The prospect was tempting. It would make his brothers happy, he knew, but... Air Raid slid a servo over his suitcase, squeezing the handles tightly. No, he told himself, he had to stay. He didn't have much choice. Still, the ligaments in his legs tightened, ready to spring him up and carry him in a mad rush to the door.

An angry hiss cut through the rest of his thoughts; lifting his helm, the autodog saw the bus doors snap shut, sealing his fate. Slowly, Air Raid laid back in his seat, staring at the back of the blue, stained chair in front of him. This... this was for the best, he reassured himself.

A small, cynical smile worked its way to his lip components.

Right... the best...

**Title: Room 227**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: Some things we learn at the wrong time**

Silverbolt lept to his pedes the moment Trailbreaker walked into the waiting room, guiding a sleepy Fireflight by one servo; Breakdown cradled securely in the other. "O-oh, th-thank you," the shih tzu breathed, rushing forward, picking his younger brother up and giving him a hug. "I d-didn't k-know who else to call, a-and well..."

"It's okay, Silvy," Fireflight yawned, still trying to rub the sleep from his optics. "This is a good thing, a happy thing. Finally, See-Dee is going to have a bornling too!" His smile helped to ease Silverbolt's anxiousness a little.

"Your brother's right, ya know," Trailbreaker smiled shyly, nudging Silverbolt with his elbow. The karelian bent down momentarily to hand the waking Breakdown to his carrier; both mechs watching as the younger autodog crossed the room to go sit by a grumpy-looking Slingshot. "By that, I mean," the country 'bot continued self-consciously, "Well, ya don't really need to worry an' all. You're in a hospital, after all. Your brother's got a whole bunch of medical staff to look after him -he'll be safe."

At the look Silverbolt gave him, the dark autodog trailed off, standing awkwardly; rubbing the back of his neck. Seeing this, the shih tzu tried to swallow back the rest of his nagging doubts, taking a small, side-step closer to Trailbreaker. The karelian jolted a little in surprise, but did not comment, his helm turned towards the other mech patiently.

"...T-thank you," Silverbolt said softly, "All the same. I'm g-grateful that you w-wanted to help. I... I admit, I'm not... not r-really able to h-handle all of this yet. I'm scared... and uncertain... and even a little excited... B-but, I think, I think I c-can manage."

"S-sorry again for c-calling you so late a-and m-making you g-get my brothers," he added, blushing a bit in embarrassment, "W-with the exception o-of Slingshot, I w-was too frazzled to grab a-anyone else, a-and I r-really didn't w-want to p-panic them e-either."

A dark ear twitched at the last statement, drawing the shih tzu's attention. Pausing, his good mood fading again, Silverbolt faced the other mech; his gaze locked with Trailbreaker's visor. "Trailbreaker... what..." He paused, finally looking around, realizing that Air Raid was nowhere in sight. "...W-where's Air Raid?"

Trailbreaker vented softly, his shoulders sinking with an unseen weight. "I-i... I'm sorry, Silverbolt," he quickly apologized, keeping his vocalizer low, "I didn't know -I mean, he wasn't there when I went to your place, and I'd assumed..."

The multi-coloured mech could only press a servo to his mouth, taking a stumbling step backwards as he felt his earlier nausea and fear rise up inside him like a sudden flame. Collapsing into a chair, Silverbolt tried to fight down his panic and confusion, glancing frequently at his younger brothers. Trailbreaker quickly knelt in front of the other autodog, his uncertain servos taking the shih tzu's servos into his own.

"S-silv... please... Don't... don't worry, ok?," the karelian tried to soothe, his thumb rubbing the back of Silverbolt's servo softly. "A-air Raid's a big mech... I'm sure he's got reasons for not being at home. He wouldn't just disappear or anything like that. B-besides, you've got to stay here... your one brother's going through the biggest m-moment of his life and the o-other two, they'll n-need you to stay strong for them a-as well. Let's... let's wait until t-tomorrow, before we jump to conclusions and-"

"...Air Raid's gone...?"

The two mechs froze at the low whisper, helms turning to face Slingshot. The youngling stood not but a foot away from them, servos balled into fists at his side, shaking, as his optics narrowed behind his visor. "Where...," he bit out slowly, denta clenched tightly, "I-is Air Raid?"

Silverbolt reached a servo towards his younger brother. "S-slingshot..."

The grey shih tzu slapped the extending servo away with a snarl, taking a angry step towards the pair. "Tell me now!," he shouted, causing a few helms to turn in the waiting room. "W-where is he?! What did you d-do to make him leave!? I swear i-if you don't tell me right now, I'll-!"

"Onslaught!"

Slingshot cut off the rest of his threat as Fireflight's exuberant vocalizer cheered behind the trio; tearing them all away from the chaos they had slowly been spiraling into. Getting to his pedes quickly at the distraction, Silverbolt crossed the room to the kittycon, servos clasped worriedly before his chestplates. "I-is...is everything alright, O-onslaught?," he asked, optics flickering across the serval's face. "W-was there a problem? I-is-"

Onslaught raised a servo, silencing Silverbolt and his anxious fretting immediately. Slowly, the weariness on the older mech's face began to fade away; a proud smile stretching across his lip components, his optics glowing with joy and love. "Everything's fine... Skydive would like you all to come in now, and to meet the twins."

Silverbolt gasped in surprise and Fireflight bounced a little in place at the unexpected news. "You hear that Bedo," he giggled, looking down at the little bornling half-awake in his arms, "You've got not one, but two new cousins! Let's go say hi!"

Onslaught chuckled warmly as well, resting a large servo on the white shih tzu's shoulders as he turned them towards Skydive's room. Looking back to make sure they were all interested in coming, the serval shortly continued back down the hall, chatting softly with Fireflight, who was rapidly firing away curious and excited questions.

Trailbreaker hung back for a moment. His gaze rested on the silent youngling that stood in the middle of the waiting room still, staring out of the hospital windows into the dark, glittering night. It seemed to take forever before Slingshot slowly turned around; his pedes dragging, helm down, his fists now limp servos at his sides.

Ears lowered sympathetically at the shih tzu's unknown plight, the karelian turned around, silently leading the younger autodog from a few metres ahead. He glanced frequently behind him to make sure Slingshot still followed and was saddened to see that with each step, the brazen, loud pup seemed to grow smaller and smaller...


	38. Blast Off and Cosmos V

**Title: Leaving**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: It's time he left**

"So, you're really going then..."

Blast Off paused, glancing over his shoulder momentarily before shoving the box he carried in among the others in the trunk. It was a bit of a tight fit but they were all in there now; he had no more possessions left to bring down. Slamming the trunk close, the siamese turned and faced his sire finally. The serval stood at the top of the driveway, arms crossed over his chestplates neutrally.

"Won't be changing your mind now?," he asked, optic ridge cocked curiously.

An unnecessary question. "No," Blast Off answered. He pulled his keys out of his pocket, heading for the driver's seat.

" _Soldier_..." came the low growl.

The younger kittycon stopped, before turning about face and impatiently approaching his sire. He'd been too long without seeing Cosmos; he just wished to leave already. Onslaught did not say anything until his son had come to a stop right in front of him, and then, the older mech reached out and grasped the siamese's shoulder plating. Blast Off gave a little twitch as Onslaught suddenly smiled at him, the serval's expression softening as he gazed up at his son warmly.

"You've done well, son. I'm proud of you," he said, giving the other's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Inclining his helm in gratitude, Blast Off shook his sire's servo when it was held out for him; even patting Onslaught's back awkwardly as the smaller mech pulled him into an impromptu hug. They were quick to part again though, and, giving the serval one last glance, Blast Off silently climbed in the car and drove it back down the driveway and away from his family home.

**Title: Waiting**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: He arrives at Cosmos' apartment**

When he unlocked the door, he wasn't too surprised to find that Cosmos wasn't home.

It was, after all, still a work day.

Deciding to keep his things in the car downstairs for the time being, Blast Off busied himself with cleaning, waiting for the autodog to finish up work at the lab. It was six o'clock when he stopped cleaning, noticing with a silent frown that Cosmos had yet to enter the apartment. At six thirty, he went downstairs to see if perhaps the pyrenees was lingering around the mailboxes or maybe he'd gotten into a discussion with some of his neighbours.

There was no sign of the astronomer.

Blast Off decided to take a slow walk to the Science Department, his optics flickering about studiously on the off-chance he caught sight of Cosmos. Still nothing. With the labs closed for the orn and evening rapidly approaching, it would seem foolish that the autodog would even still be outside as it got dark- and Cosmos was anything but foolish.

Silently, the siamese stalked back to the apartment, his tail giving a violent twitch when there was still no Cosmos inside. He seated himself on the couch; waiting, hoping, that the pyrenees would eventually walk through the door.

He waited all night.

**Title: Direction**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: Blast Off investigates about Cosmos' absence**

"See ya later, Mainframe," Wheeljack called as he headed down the hallway. "I'll tell Percy you said hi!"

The bland autodog stuck his helm out of his office. "If you're going to do that, will you please remind him that, though I love and admire his work ethic, the labs _are_ to be vacated at night," he said. The engineer laughed.

"Alright, I'll tell him. Bye!" Almost skipping around the corner in his eagerness to get home, the autodog ran smack dab into something solid coming from the other side. Catching himself before he could fall, Wheeljack rubbed his olfactory sensor as he turned his helm up; shuttering his optics in shock at the kittycon looming over him.

"He-hey... Blast Off, wasn't it?," he asked, trying to smile at the silent mech. It was a little hard with how apethetically ticked off the siamese seemed.

"...where is Cosmos?," came the soft demand, grey optics narrowing a tad impatiently. Wheeljack tried to shake off the chill he got from that look as best as he could.

"D-did, umm... did you just get back from a business trip?," the bulldog asked. "Well, I-i mean," he was quick to add, seeing a brown tail twitch, "I haven't seen you around the labs often recently. You always make certain to come visit Cosmos from time to time and I know he missed you terribly when you're gone on a trip. I suppose that's why he decided to take some vacation time and go see his parents while you were out of town..."

Wheeljack swallowed suddenly as Blast Off leaned straight into his face, his optics piercing into the autodog's very spark with their deadly gaze. "Where?," the kittycon repeated, his patience thin now.

The engineer took a cautionary step back, smiling nervously. "U-umm, well, I don't actually know where Cosmos' parents live. Somewhere outside of Iacon as far as I know; North," he answered, scratching at the back of his helm to keep from shaking at the dark look on Blast Off's face. "T-the, um, front desk might know," he tried to helpfully supply, "They usually have emergency contacts i-in the employee's information file, on the off-chance something happens. But-"

The siamese didn't even wait for him to finish. He immediately turned and quickly headed back down the hallway, disappearing into the nearest staircase without a word of backwards glance to the autodog. Confused, Wheeljack stood there, feeling mildly calmer since the kittycon had left but no less perplexed.

"I wonder if something happened between them...," the bulldog muttered to himself.

**Title: Uncomfortable**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: Sometimes running away isn't the best solution**

"Honey pie... are you alright?," Lightbright asked. Cosmos did not look up at the question, his fork playing with his unfinished dinner idly. The two 'bots on either side of him looked on worriedly, before the larger one slapped the table, making it shake dangerously.

"Why, of course the boy isn't alright, LightBright," Dug Base exclaimed. "Just look at him- our son is obviously upset!"

The little pyrenees sighed. His carrier and sire, LightBright and Dug Base, were a quaint, quiet couple; happy, sweet by nature and just as sensitive as their son. Dug Base was a large and tall mountain dog and Lightbright was his shorter, tinier pyrenees wife. They lived in a lovely little home in the next town over from Iacon, in a quiet, friendly neighbourhood, which was partially paid for by Cosmos. He had wanted to bring his parents to the big city when he was accepted as Head Astronomer for the prestigious Science Department, but Lightbright and Dug Base had politely declined.

They didn't want to leave the home they had first bought when they had bonded and raised their only son in. Cosmos, at the time, had understood and promised to support them when they got older, as well as to visit every chance he could.

He was sad to say that he hadn't done the latter in a very long time... and he was now regretting visiting his parents.

"O-oh my...," Lightbright said, touching her cheekplate worriedly as she looked to her bondmate. "Well, I-i... I had hoped our lil' boy might feel better after some dinner, but I suppose that's not the case... Cosmos, honey pie? Would you feel better if you commed your friend?"

The suggestion -though nice- was not what he really wanted to hear right now.

"...excuse me...," Cosmos mumbled, pushing away from the table. The other two autodogs watched as the astronomer walked silently from the room; his ears flattened against his helm and his tail dragging along the floor sadly.

**Title: Incentive**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: He's plagued with reasons to forget**

It was better if he forgot about Blast Off altogether, Cosmos told himself.

" _Hey, you'll never guess what?!"_

" _What?," the femme asked her friend. The waitress giggled loudly._

" _There's some really hot 'bot at table thirty-seven!"_

_Table thirty-seven? The pyrenees paused outside the washroom door. That was his table..._

Cosmos rolled over in berth -his old berth from his youngling years- trying to shutter his optics and fall asleep. It was impossible though, even despite how tired and drained he felt after crying. No matter what he did, he just couldn't get the siamese off of his processor.

" _Table thirty-seven?," the other waitress repeated. He stopped from turning the corner; something warning him that he shouldn't continue forward. In fact, his gut was telling him to book it. "Oh_ wow _! He is hot! But, wait... isn't he with somebody?"_

_The first femme snorted disdainfully. "With no one important,_ trust _me! I mean, why would some hottie like that want a fat, dorky, little midget for? Nah. I bet that kitty would like a real 'bot." Her friend laughed a little as she purred seductively._

A fresh sob escaped Cosmos and he curled under his blanket, trying to stifle his tears as he buried his face into his damp pillow. Still, it was futile. He couldn't get rid of his tears or the femmes' laughter, resounding hauntingly within his helm.

" _Here. Help me fix my skirt," the first femme demanded, the sound of fabric rustling meeting the pyrenees' ears. No doubt it was the 'bot fixing her outfit. "I want to look sexy for when I give him my comm number!"_

" _HA! As is he'll take it," her friend laughed again, "But hey, give him mine as well and I'll loan you my make-up too!"_

_Cosmos quickly turned and ran back into the restaurant's restroom, intakes heaving and hitching as he went._

Even now, his spark was shredding and withering at such blatant truth, making Cosmos whimper as he buried his face into his servos. He knew he was ugly, stupid, small, clumsy... He knew all of that with every fibre of his being. But he had believed -hoped- that despite that, Blast Off still loved him.

Trust someone like himself to get it wrong...

**Title: Unexpected**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: His running away proves useless**

It was tense in the living room. Cosmos' sire sat in his armchair, remote in his servo, but he had long since abandoned the t.v in favour of staring at his son. To his credit, the astronomer remained amazingly unaware of the stiff study he was being subjected to -either that, or he did not know he was being watched. "Son...," Dug Base started slowly, "I think we should ta-"

"Would you like some pie, dad?," Cosmos cut in, jumping to his pedes. "I think momma still has some left in the fridge."

The older autodog shuttered his optics in surprise at the sudden change of topic, before sighing and waving his servo loosely in the air. "Yeah... alright. I would like some Cosmos," he sighed, well aware that this was nothing more than a diversionary tactic. Nodding his helm, the pyrenees quickly scurried from the room.

He vented heavily as he escaped into the kitchen, wiping hurriedly at his optics. He knew his creators were upset and worried. He'd been staying with them now for well over two weeks and showed no signs of wanting to go back to Iacon. But how could Cosmos return, knowing that the next time he saw Blast Off was more than likely to be their last? ...His poor spark couldn't take that... Opening the fridge door, the pyrenees quickly grabbed the rest of his momma's pie, setting the tray down on the counter and pulling out a knife to cut a slice for his sire.

He was just plating the treat when the kitchen door opened. "Hi momma," Cosmos began, turning, "I was just getting-"

The autodog scurried backwards at grey optics peering down at him, feeling suddenly so very small and scared. "Bl-blast...Off..."

"Ah! Honey pie!," Lightbright chirped, stepping into the kitchen from behind the siamese; a load of groceries in her arms, "Guess who I crossed by at the supermarket. This handsome mech said he was your friend and that he was looking for you. Isn't that sweet? I've invited him for dinner!"

The astronomer could not reply; he was trapped in a stupor, frozen by his confused spark which pulled in every which direction the longer those hypnotic optics stayed glued to him. Lightbright trailed off the longer Cosmos remained unresponsive, looking curiously between the stoic kittycon and her starting-to-panic son. "Cosmos... sweetie... is something wrong?," the femme asked, taking a step toward the mech; cautiously circling around Blast Off and giving him frequent glances.

"If... I may," the siamese began softly, "May I speak to Cosmos for a moment ...Alone? There is something I wish to discuss with him in private."

The older pyrenees was not comforted by this request. She opened her mouth to deny the stranger, but Blast Off bowed respectively, looking at her with his deep, penetrating optics. "I do not wish to harm him. Merely talk. I have something important to tell him."

Lightbright shifted in place uneasily, but the siamese was being quite polite and Cosmos had not denied his request otherwise, so the femme decided to leave. "We're just outside the door," she whispered to her son as she passed after depositing her groceries onto the counter. She looked back at Blast Off one last time, before the kitchen door swung shut behind her.

**Title: Proposal**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: Finally, the dreaded confrontation is at hand**

"W-why... why are you here? How did you find me? I-i... I, pl-please...," Cosmos sniffed, his servos wringing together anxiously as he glanced away from the kittycon. Blast Off set a plate of pie in front of him, before pulling out a chair and sitting across the table from the autodog. Cosmos tried not to whimper as he caught the other's gaze for a moment.

"I came back to the apartment. You weren't there," Blast Off answered flatly. "I decided to come look for you."

The pyrenees flinched as the siamese reached across the table, yanking his servos back and away from the other's claws before they could touch. At the action, the kittycon froze, as if he'd been slapped. Immediately, Cosmos felt terrible and he started to cry. "O-oh, I'm... I-i'm sorry!," he sobbed, burying his face into his servos. "Y-you shouldn't have c-come! I d-don't... _Slaggit_ , I wish you'd never come!"

Cosmos snapped his helm up, half-glaring through his tears as he faced Blast Off again; his spark a knot of twisted, conflicted emotions. "Y-you don't need to be s-so cruel! I-i get it. I'm, I-i'm fat and st-stupid and I-i couldn't e-even begin to match y-you, b-but... I-i..."

The pyrenees sobbed and hiccupped, feeling meeker and suddenly angrier than he had ever did before in his life. He hadn't expected Blast Off to come chasing after him, but after everything that he'd done, after everything everyone had ever said about the couple, Cosmos didn't want anything to do with the kittycon any longer. In fact, he didn't even want him to be here right now!

Oh, why... why had he come?

"D-don't tell m-me that it was all a l-lie," the autodog sobbed, his spark withering painfully in his chestplates as he once again turned his helm away from the other mech, "O-oh, primus... p-please... If you're g-going to l-leave, d-don't... don't say th-that it meant n-nothing to you..."

Gentle claws pulled the pyrenees' servos away from his face, the hiccupping Cosmos staring in confusion at the grey optics hovering close to his own, before hungry lip components were devouring his; smothering and swallowing all his tears and whimpers with a force that felt so spark-brokenly desperate, the poor astronomer's processor was left in a whirl.

"...Cosmos..." Blast Off whispered against his lip components, pulling back an inch, servos cupping the tiny mech's face. Grey optics shuttered slowly, glazed with pain. Cosmos had never seen such expression like that in them before. "...I never wished to hurt you. Nor do I want to leave you. You are all I want; all I could ever dream of having. You are perfect in my optics."

A thumb stroked his cheekplate, wiping away another tear as Cosmos' looked up at the kittycon, torn between his feelings for the brown mech and his nagging doubts. It felt like he might simply die when Blast off pulled back a little further from him to reach into his pocket. "I," the siamese began, "Had some issues to take care of, concerning my sire. It was bad timing... I had meant to discuss moving in with you further after this. But I could not come home that night."

The 'this' Blast Off was referring to, revealed itself to be a little, velvet box cupped in the siamese's palm; a simple, silver band with a delicate engraving around its circumference and a moonstone shining up at him from within its silken interior.

"I-i... Blast Off..." Cosmos didn't know what to say, or what to think. His processor was scrambled and his spark was whirling a mile a klik. He felt as if he would start crying again. The kittycon stroked his cheekplate again before clasping the autodog's servo and sinking to both knees.

"Cosmos... I love you and only you. Without you, life is bleaker... pointless... I find only joy and comfort in you; beauty and love. So..." Blast Off hesitated. "I...I ask: Will you bond with me? Could you love me as equally as I love you?"

It wasn't a joke; it couldn't possibly be a lie! A touch of worry and fear pulled at the taller mech's expression, erasing any and all of Cosmos' doubts with its rare presence. With such sincere words being spoken with that anxious gaze, there could be no falseness to Blast Off's request. The cold mech would never spare so much emotion for a simple lie.

Slender claws trembled minutely now, and even the siamese's gaze grew flatter and flatter with every passing astrosecond. It was with horror that Cosmos realized that his mechfriend was pulling away from him entirely and he jumped to his pedes in a sparkbeat.

"W-wait!," he cried, flinging his arms around one of Blast Off's arms. "P-please! Please, I don't want you to leave! I-i want to marry you Blast Off. I wish to be your only one a-and to have y-your children a-and-"

The pyrenees let out a little squeak as he was suddenly lifted into the air, before every other sound was smothered by the brown mech's lip components; Blast Off holding the shocked autodog close as he passionately kissed him. Cosmos swooned, clutching at the siamese's shoulder plating as his spark seemed to swell within his chestplates, tears of joy and disbelief filling his shuttered optics.

**Title: Announcement**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: Cosmos has to confront his parents next**

"Ma'am, sir..."

The two autodogs turned to face the kittycon as he entered the room; arms crossed behind his backstruts and Cosmos following at his heels. Dug Base immediately sat up in alarm, noticing that his son's optics were glazed still -evidence that he'd recently been crying. It was a worrisome sight, even to Lightbright, but the green mech did not seem upset or angry, so the femme took that to be a good sign. She was the first one to return her attention to Blast Off, receiving a polite nod from the kittycon.

"I would like to duly inform you that I have asked your son's hand in marriage," he announced, ears raised in what seemed excitement. "He has accepted my proposal."

The parents didn't know how to respond.

"B-blast Off!," Cosmos squeaked, servos cupping his cheekplates in embarrassment. "You didn't tell me you were going to tell them that!" Unsurprisingly, the siamese did not seem repentant.

"M-married?!," Lightbright exclaimed, the first one to break out of her stupor. Cosmos cringed, expecting some sort of rant about his actions. Instead, she gave a high-pitched squeal, before leaping across the room and hugging her son. "My baby's getting married! My baby's finally getting married -and to such a hunky 'bot as well!"

"M-mom!," the younger pyrenees wailed, flushed magenta.

Lightbright giggled and squeezed Cosmos tighter, her tail wagging away merrily. "I can't wait for the wedding! You're going to look so cute, honey pie! Momma will bake you the biggest, prettiest cake ever and we'll find you the most prettiest dress ever and I'll crotchet some sparkling blankets for my grandkids and-"

" _MOM!_ "

Dug Base ignored his vocal family, approaching the kittycon, who still easily towered over him, despite the autodog's massive size. "Make him happy," was all he said, holding out a servo for the other to take. Blast Off did so; shaking it respectively.

"Of course, sir."

**Title: One last visit**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: They have only one last place to stop at before moving forward**

He was nervous; more nervous than he'd ever been before. Cosmos fiddled with the ring around his finger, glancing frequently to the floor, trying not to squirm too much in his seat. Everything after Blast Off had come looking for him at his parents' place had been a blissful blur -moving the kittycon's things into the apartment, discussing in small details plans for their wedding and their new lives together- when suddenly the brown mech had said they needed to see his sire before they went any further with their plans.

Of course Cosmos understood the reasons why (he was beginning to discover just how traditional Blast Off really was) but that did not make him any less anxious. He was afraid to know what his bondmate-to-be's creators would think of him.

"Here you go," another autodog said, walking into the living room where the pyreness sat. He smiled warmly at Cosmos, carrying a tea tray across the room. He attempted to set it down, but with his bulging belly, it was difficult. Immediately, the astronomer leapt up to help, apologizing as he took one end of the tray and helped the stranger set it down on the coffee table.

"No, no," the shih tzu smiled, chuckling lightly, "Thank you for your help. Onslaught will be on his way; he's had to go to the store for a moment. Please, feel free to help yourself."

"Oh...," Cosmos sat back down, shyly looking at the tea and biscuits, "O-okay..."

He looked up to see the other autodog leaving the room just as Blast Off was entering; the siamese paused, politely stepping out of the pregnant mech's way and receiving a bright smile for his kindness. "W-who... um, who was that?," the pyrenees whispered curiously as the kittycon crossed the room, sitting beside him on the couch. His servos were wringing again.

"Skydive; my step-mother. My father has recently re-married," Blast Off answered flatly. "They are expecting soon."

Words could not describe how relieved Cosmos felt at this news... nor how silly he felt.

"He's young..."

"Yes."

"And an autodog..."

A servo wound itself around Cosmos' waist, tugging him closer to the siamese. A soft gasp escaped him as he glanced up to see Blast Off looking down at him intently, a slender claw stroking along the plating closest to his inner thigh.

"My sire has his own love," Blast Off stated, "And I have my own as well."

Warmth flowed through him, starting low and threatening to burst into an inferno. Cosmos found himself getting suddenly closer to the siamese; intakes hitching as he waited for the moment when their lip components touched...

"Am I interrupting something?"

The pyrenees squeaked in embarrassment, snapping his helm away from the kittycon and shoving his servos into his lap, refusing to look up at Onslaught, who was coming into the living room just then. Skydive was following not too soon after, greeting the older mech with a kiss before the serval gently led him to sit in the mech's personal armchair.

"I got your comm...," Onslaught began, looking to his son. "I assume it was important."

Blast Off straightened in his seat, respectively removing his servo from around the autodog's waist and instead touching his shoulder. "Yes," the younger kittycon replied, "I wanted you to meet my lover: Cosmos." The serval straightened up at that, his ears giving a twitch in surprise.

"We love each other much and have discussed it," Blast Off continued, looking tenderly at Cosmos. The astronomer couldn't help but to look up as well; smiling shyly through his blush. "We are going to get married -in half a year."

"So...so soon?," Onslaught gaped incredulously. Blast Off, and even Skydive, gave him a look and the older kittycon scratched at his cheekplate self-consciously.

"I see...," he gruffed. "I'm..." He paused to smile. "I'm glad. For both of you. Do you need any assistance?"

Blast Off shook his helm slowly. "No, we shall be fine. I believe we can manage this one on our own."

Onslaught nodded his helm in understanding. "Very well," he said. Suddenly, the serval clapped his servos together, beaming brightly. "Well now, such good news deserves a celebration. I'll make a delightful feast in honour of your engagement, and soon-to-be wedding!"

Immediately, the siamese rose to his pedes. "No," he protested flatly, "That will be unnecessary."

"...Nonsense," his sire frowned. "I want to get to know my future son-in-law better, and to treat you both."

Blast Off shuttered his optics mutely. "We already have dinner plans."

The serval's upper lip component raised in a snarl. "But I _insist_...," he growled lowly. His son's tail gave a twitch in defiance.

Cosmos watched, wide-opticed and half-worried things would escalate into a vicious fight; being distracted from his thoughts only when something gently touched his shoulder plating. Giving a little jolt, the pyrenees turned his helm, shuttering his optics up at the other autodog. He had not even heard Skydive get up from his seat.

"Come," the shih tzu smiled warmly at him, "Let us retreat to the kitchen. These two will settle things between themselves quickly and without a fight, but in the meantime I have some goodies that need icing. Would you care to help?"

The suggestion sounded quite nice actually. "Y-yes," Cosmos shyly answered, getting up and walking side-by-side with the younger autodog to the kitchen. For a moment, the pyrenees allowed himself to bask in the warmth and love that this entire house seemed to radiate; accepting him without question or judgement into its fold.


	39. Barrel and SwiftStroke III

**C.M.D: This is the last time these two will be involved in this specific fic. If you are interested in seeing more of my OCs though, please check out my Deviantart for more updates on them!**   
**Title: Barrel and SwiftStroke III**   
**Rating: T**

The smell of a passing heat cycle filled the devon rex's olfactory sensors as he marched through the door. Already in a bad mood from earlier that orn, Swindle snarled as he also caught whiff of an unknown 'bot's scent; storming off down the hall and towards his "dead weight's" berthroom. How dare that insolent pup even think to bring someone into his home?! "You stupid mu-"

The berthroom door slammed against the opposite wall as he kicked it open, more curses on the tip of his glossa. But they were silenced immediately as Swindle stared into the darkened room. The floor was clear and tidy, as the kittycon had neither bought or given his charge any toys or games, and the lone dresser had its shelves all pushed in properly, the clothes folded inside. What really caught the mech's attention though was the autodog knocked out soundly on the berth, twisted up among the small sheets. He hadn't even woken up with Swindle's violent entrance... but his "guest" had.

Sharp, cold magenta optics peeked over Barrel's arm, a small shape rising up silently from behind him.

"W-who... who are you?," Swindle growled, fangs baring defensively. The stranger simply crawled over the saint bernard's frame, one servo resting on the sparkling's helm and his fox tail curling under an arm possessively. At the inquiry, the other's optics narrowed further, flashing angrily.

A cold finger of fear actually shivered down the devon rex's backstruts.

Not wanting to admit defeat or his own cowardice, Swindle just spat in contempt, before grabbing the door and slamming it behind him as he stormed from the room. Again, Barrel did not wake. Surrounded by darkness once more, SwiftStroke turned to the slumbering sparkling, almost amazed by his ability to sleep through such ruckus. Not that it really mattered.

Venting quietly, the fox patted the autodog's cheekplate softly before lying back down beside the bigger 'bot. He ignored the stickiness between his thighs and the soreness of his aft, feeling positively drained as it was. It was only when he was certain that Barrel's incompetent guardian would not come storming back in to yell at the pup, did SwiftStroke finally drift off into recharge.

**xxXxXxx**

"Let me see," SwiftStroke demanded.

Trying to still hide the dent, Barrel weakly shook his helm, whimpering when the fox grabbed his chin all the same and tugged the other's face towards him. "You've been hurt," the fox stated flatly. The barest prickle of a hiss could be heard in his tone.

"I-it...it's only a small one," the saint bernard stuttered. "A-an accident, too, I promise. Really!"

The smaller mech narrowed his optics. "How?"

The sparkling whimpered again; immediately SwiftStroke released him, gently stroking the damaged cheekplate with a forefinger. "My apologies," he said softly. The magenta optics glanced off to the side momentarily before they slid back to him.

Blushing at the concern, Barrel shifted uneasily, wanting more but too shy to ask for it. He was caught off-guard when the fox suddenly leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his sore cheekplate. "S-swift...," the autodog gasped. He watched, stunned, as SwiftStroke pulled away; his blush darkening. Yellow fingers fidgeted self-consciously. "S-swift... c-could I...?"

"If you'd like," came the other's reply. Tail wagging excitedly, the saint bernard bent down further, kissing the fox soundly. He purred merrily as he felt SwiftStroke return the pressure; optics flaring brightly when he felt a warm glossa prod at his lip components. Barrel opened his mouth, allowing the smaller mech entrance, and slipping his own glossa into SwiftStroke's mouth. He always found this way of kissing strange, but he enjoyed the fox's soft taste of lemons and honey, and the way the other pressed closer when they did it.

Breaking apart, Barrel sat back on his haunches, grinning broadly at SwiftStroke. "Thank y-"

"We're going to speak to your guardian," the fox interrupted quickly. The autodog straightened up at the words, tail falling behind him.

"B-but, why...?," the sparkling stuttered, "I m-mean, w-we don't-"

"We do," came the sharp reprimand. "And we're going now."

Barrel shot to his pedes as SwiftStroke turned and started to march away; startled and anxious, the autodog hurried to follow after his companion.

**xxXxXxx**

Again, Swindle came home to a stranger in his apartment.

"Just what do you think you're doing, you little fr-" The devon rex choked on the rest of his words as he was sent flying back into the wall with a simple kick from the fox; sliding to the floor, one arm wrapped around his chestplates. The big idiot gasped behind the small mech, trying to grasp his partner's shoulders.

"S-swift, please..."

"No," the teal-grey mech cut in. He cast a quick glance to Barrel. "Do not interfere." Quietly, the saint bernard backed down.

"You, you glitch!," the entrepreneur spat, trying to get back to his pedes. SwiftStroke narrowed his optics at the curse; silently, he reached under his coat, withdrawing a gun which he aimed directly at the kittycon's helm. At the sight of the weapon, both of the larger mechs froze.

"Sw-swift... w-why, why do y-you have a-a... a gun?," Barrel whimpered in confusion. "P-please, don't h-hurt him, Swift; i-it was an a-accident, re-really!"

Swindle kept his optics fixed to that gun, denta bared tensely. He would move for his own firearm holstered under his shirt, but he doubted the stranger would allow him even the chance to move, and he rather liked not having a hole in his helm. Instead, he glared at Barrel, and then at the fox. "I should have known you were a worthless little fragger, pit-spawn... Bringing your personal spike-pillow into my home," the devon rex hissed. Short, cruel laughter slipped past his fangs at the stunned look on Barrel's face.

"What? You didn't think I knew about all the times you snuck your friend into my home, and then fragged out his processor?," Swindle sneered. "Disgusting... So, what are you going to do now, huh? Kill me and take whatever you like?! And after I so graciously took in and clothed and fed your no-good skidplate. Why I oughtta-"

"Silence!," snapped the fox. Barrel swallowed back the sob that had started to rise, turning his attention to SwiftStroke and away from his furious guardian. Swindle bit back the rest of his words reluctantly, deciding keeping his life was worth more than spewing his hatred at this moment.

"I didn't come here to listen your pointless complaints," SwiftStroke continued. "Though you deserve none of it... I come to give you an offer."

The smaller mech lowered his gun, his glare keeping the kittycon in place. Flatly, he said, "You have no care for the sparkling -this much is obvious. Regardless, he is not deserving of the abuse you have given him."

"What abuse?! If you're talking about that stupid dent on his face, that was his own fault -he tripped over his pedes and slammed into the counter! I should be the one complaining. He crushed a whole bag of groceries in the process!"

The fox quickly lifted his gun again. "Nonetheless," he interjected coldly, "You have neglected, mistreated and made this sparkling feel like he is worthless. He is not deserving of it, and it only further proves your pathetic nature."

"You little-"

"I am not finished. Do not interrupt me," SwiftStroke hissed. Swindle bit down hard on his glossa, clenching his servos at his sides. Allowing a moment of silence, the fox continued. "Though I would like nothing more than to leave you to this 'suffering', I will not allow Barrel to be put through anymore of this. Barrel -go pack your things."

The saint bernard jolted at the command. Anxiously, he turned around to partially face the smaller mech, wringing his servos together uncertainly. "W-what, Swift? D-do you w-want me to...?"

"Yes," the other replied. "Go now. Pack only what you believe essential. You are coming back with me. Do you understand?"

Barrel's entire demeanor brightened at the words. Tail wagging, the sparkling scurried down the hall to his room, forgetting for a moment about the guardian his friend still had pinned at gun point. Swindle watched the autodog go, stunned at the words the fox had said. Looking back at the teal-grey mech, the kittycon glared at the weapon still aimed for him.

"So you're taking him then?"

SwiftStroke shuttered his optics slowly. "Yes. Lie if you will and pretend that he is under your constant surveillance, but I will save you the effort of not caring anymore," the fox said. "From now on, I shall take care of him."

It wasn't exactly something that Swindle was against. "Very well," he replied, grudgingly, "Take the brat. Just hurry up and get out of my house."

"Nothing would make me happier," SwiftStroke returned, putting his gun away just as Barrel shuffled up behind him. Not even glancing back at the sparkling, the smaller 'bot headed for the door. Barrel waited until SwiftStroke had slipped outside before smiling sadly at Swindle, clutching his small suitcase before him.

"Thank you for taking care of me for so long, and for being my daddy for a little while... even if I was nothing more than a bother to you...," he said softly. Inclining his helm forward a little, the saint bernard started for the door. "Bye bye, Swindle sir."

Closing the front door behind him as he left, Barrel was not all that surprised to find SwiftStroke waiting for him patiently. The fox quickly glanced up and down the hallway, making sure that they were alone. "Have you said your goodbyes?," he asked. The sparkling nodded his helm mutely. Catching the motion, SwiftStroke turned back around to face the autodog, holding out a servo for Barrel to take. "Let us go."

Optics flashing in excitement, the bigger mech quickly grabbed his partner's servo, clasping it tightly in his larger one. The fox said nothing to the purr that followed, allowing himself to be slightly tugged down the hall and to the elevators.

**xxXxXxx**

"I-is... is this really for me?" The autodog look on excitedly, his optics moving from every corner of the room rapidly. He took in the brand new bed covered in fresh sheets, the star and sun curtains on the window, and the treasure chest at the foot of the bed filled with toys all for him. Against the one wall, was a dresser for all his clothes, and there was even a closet for him to use. At the beautiful room, Barrel whirled around, looking at SwiftStroke in disbelief and utter adoration.

"Yes...," the fox answered flatly.

"All of it?!"

SwiftStroke blushed a little. "Yes... Stroke wanted you to come live with us for a long time. She's had plenty of time to get together everything needed, and everything else she thought you'd like."

Unable to repress his joy, Barrel quickly reached down and scooped the smaller mech up, snuggling him close. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!," he chirped, nuzzling the fox. Realizing exactly what he was doing, and that he had not asked permission first, the sparkling blushed, immediately setting his friend down. "I... I- umm... I, I'm sorry, Swift, I-"

"It is quite alright," SwiftStroke interrupted. He turned his helm away from the bigger 'bot quickly, grabbing Barrel's suitcase. "Come, let us get your things put away."

The autodog followed behind obediently, his tail sweeping up a current behind him.

**xxXxXxx**

It was dark.

Barrel stared up at his ceiling, clutching the sheets up to his chin. He tried to go to sleep -he knew he was sleepy- but he just couldn't wind down. The sparkling was just so wound up, his thoughts running miles in his helm. This was too... new for him, and strange. Stranger than when he had suddenly been dumped into Swindle's care.

The saint bernard tried to shutter his optics, but when he did, lights from outside on the street flashed into his room, startling him. He spent the next couple kliks counting sheep. When things finally quieted down again and Barrel started to drift off, some noise echoed in the silent apartment, scaring the autodog. Then he'd spend the next several kliks assuring himself that it was just some floorboard or some person from the floor above, and not some monster out to get him.

Finally, after what felt like cycles of many failed attempts at recharging, Barrel slithered out of berth and padded down the hall to the living room. In giving him his own room, SwiftStroke had been left without one; now the fox lay curled up on the couch, face tucked into the crook of his arms and thin blanket draped over his slender frame. For a moment, the sparkling just stood at the entry way, peering in at the slumbering mech meekly. He couldn't decide whether or not he wanted to call out for SwiftStroke. After all, he did not want to disturb his friend...

"Barrel... What is the matter?"

The autodog lifted his helm quickly to see magenta optics shuttering slowly back at him; the fox now sitting up attentively on the couch. Blushing, Barrel lowered his helm again, peering at SwiftStroke shyly. "W-well, I...," he choked, unable to get the words out.

"Yes?," the teal-grey 'bot pressed softly.

"C-could, I mean... it was dark a-and the noises... s-so, umm, c-could I s-sleep with you, S-swift?"

SwiftStroke looked at him blandly. Cheekplates darkening, Barrel realized exactly what he had said and he played with his fingers anxiously; staring at the floor beneath his pedes. "I-i mean -th-that is to say...," he trailed off uncertainly, stuttering and whimpering.

"I'm afraid the couch will not be big enough," came SwiftStroke's flat tone. "But I understand. You can not sleep."

The saint bernard's helm snapped up again at the response, his tail wagging behind him earnestly now. SwiftStroke understood! Did that mean he could stay with him, instead of going back to his room? Seeing that the fox had shifted some on the couch, Barrel took that to be a confirmation to his needy request; quickly he bounded over, crashing to the floor, his helm and arms resting on the couch cushions.

"Barrel...," the fox began.

"I-it's alright. I like this," the sparkling said, cutting off what the smaller mech had been about to say. Barrel inched closer to SwiftStroke, resting his helm near his friend's legs. SwiftStroke did not push him away or make any other such negative motion. Comforted by this fact, the autodog settled down further, exhaustion finally taking its toll on the young 'bot.

"Good... goodnight, Swift," Barrel yawned, his optics shuttering for good that evening. "T-thank you, for everything."

SwiftStroke said nothing, watching silently as the saint bernard drifted off to recharge. When the sparkling's intakes had evened out, the fox took the blanket that was wrapped around him, covering the other's shoulders with it. Then he lay down beside Barrel, his helm pressed close to the autodog's ear, and his knees tucked towards to the giant's chin. Before long, even the smaller mech's intakes softened as he slipped back into sleep again.


	40. Blast Off and Cosmos VI

**Title: Wedding Night**   
**Rating: M**   
**Summary: Bonded at last**

It was a large room, a master bedroom, suited better for someone of Blast Off's height. High ceiling, large-set windows... Sitting on the berth, servos wringing together nervously in his lap, Cosmos was glad to know that they lived high enough that nobody could feasibly peak into the apartment. And if that was not comforting enough, it was always a great feeling, seeing the heavy-set curtains drawn across the panes.

Venting in a slow, paced panic, the astronomer was glad that this room was currently blocked from view. Still, the wish to flee was strong in him. To run away... To escape the inevitable fate approaching. Oh, why did he feel this way, Cosmos silently bemoaned. It wasn't as if he hadn't had a good orn -in fact, he's had a terrific one!

The morning was warm and pleasant, the ceremony had been performed in preferred quiet with selected company and the following banquet in the later afternoon had been just as content and personal. Everyone Cosmos could ever need were there: his mom, dad, his friend Wheeljack and co-worker Perceptor, and even Blast Off's own family, including the shih tzus, came. All had been really kind to him and wishing him all the best, and touched, the pyrenees couldn't help but to document this orn as one of the best he ever had.

But now, as evening drew closer, the autodog couldn't help the feelings of uncertainty that rose as he played with the new ring on his finger. Was this really okay? Was Blast Off happy with him? Did he-

Cosmos was distracted from his thoughts as the berthroom door was opened; the brown kittycon politely entering. "Good evening," Blast Off greeted, as if they had not seen each other kliks before.

"G-good evening," Cosmos replied shyly, playing with a crease in his pajamas.

Blast Off gently closed the door behind him as he slowly crossed the room. "I see you have already changed," he noted softly. "Are you ready for bed?"

"Um..." The pyrenees wrung his servos momentarily, nodding, his back to the kittycon.

"Very well," his newly-lawful bondmate replied. A short klik of silence followed as Blast Off slowly drew the sheets back on his side of the new berth. He paused though, and Cosmos was confused when he felt no weight sink the other half of the mattress. "...would you prefer me to leave?," Blast Off asked. "I will understand if you wish to sleep alone tonight, or however long you may need."

Alarmed, the pyrenees turned around on the berth, staring up at the kittycon. "N-no! Please, s-stay," he assured, "I-i... I just... I'm s-sorry... I'm nervous."

Confessing that was hard and the smaller mech couldn't help that his helm lowered meekly at the words. He was both surprised and comforted though when grey claws cupped his cheekplate; raising his helm as a thumb stroked his plating softly.

"I will not do anything you are unprepared for, as I have vowed," Blast Off gently reminded.

_'I know,'_ Cosmos thought to himself, _'You've been nothing but patient with me all these months.'_

Venting softly as the siamese pressed a gentle kiss to his brow, the astronomer quietly shifted on the berth until he was sliding beneath the covers alongside the other mech. Keeping his intakes as even as possible, Cosmos laid on his backstruts, staring at the ceiling; waiting, curious to know if Blast Off would do anything. But nothing happened. Shuttering his optics in hurt confusion, Cosmos waited a few kliks before sitting up, staring at the siamese.

"...is something troubling you?," Blast Off asked, onlining a single optic.

The pyrenees glanced at his knees. "...y-you... you didn't want to t-touch me?," he returned softly, "A-am I... am I n-not pretty... o-or..." The kittycon quickly sat up, touching the smaller mech's shoulder plating. Cosmos couldn't help the flinch he gave; glancing quickly at the other with glazed optics. "I-it's our we-wedding night, usually-"

His words were cut off as a mouth was pressed insistently on his own, his surprised squeak and following moan swallowed by the siamese as he was lowered back onto the mattress gently, one servo on his lower back.

"Usually...," Blast Off mumbled, breaking the kiss and leaning back an inch, "On a night such as this, it is common to consummate a new union by connecting and even joining sparks. I would be more than honoured to do so, but I will never force myself on you -no matter the 'norm'. And you are beautiful to my optics."

Blushing, the astronomer slowly tried to gather his scattered thoughts as he clutched to the shirt of the mech above him. When he felt clear-headed again, he nodded gently, tightening his grip. "P-please...?," he asked ambiguously. "I-i want to. I'm r-ready."

"Are you certain?," Blast Off kindly inquired.

"V-very," Cosmos nodded again.

A soft purr escaped the siamese as he bent down towards the autodog, kissing him again as his servo slowly stroked down his partner's frame. At first, Cosmos squirmed uncomfortably (not used to being touched so intimately), but after a couple more kliks of Blast Off gently mapping his frame, from shoulder to waist, the pyrenees began to relax; finding the touches pleasant and warm.

"B-blast Off," he gasped softly as their mouths parted into gentle, chaste kisses, "I-i... I'm not... I m-mean, I h-haven't..."

The siamese cut off the autodog for a moment with a deep kiss, claws sliding over the smaller mech's rotund chassis and undoing the buttons on his shirt. "It is alright," he assured, rubbing his thumb along Cosmos' collar strut, "You are my first."

The autodog paused mid-moan, shuttering his optics up at the kittycon in shock. Blast Off...? He was... He had never connected with someone before? He was untouched, like himself? Cosmos' processor whirled. How was it possible?! The taller mech was handsome, kind, intelligent, affectionate...

The pyrenees was interrupted in his chain of thoughts as he was kissed again, harder than before. Holding onto his partner's shoulder plating, the astronomer arched up into Blast Off, a muffled mewl escaping him. Whatever reason that Blast Off had refrained from 'facing beforehand, Cosmos was content with. It made what they were to participate in even more special. Claws dragging down his chassis delicately, the pyrenees shivered as he felt the kittycon slowly undo the drawstring on his pajama pants, circuits heating up faster. Mouths parting again, Blast Off took a moment to grab Cosmos' servo, gently leading the smaller fingers to the buttons on his shirt.

"Unbutton me," he requested huskily, his mouth nipping at one of Cosmos' ears, "I wish to be close to you when we connect."

Gasping at the comment, finding that it stimulated him even further, the autodog fumbled to undo the first few buttons on the siamese's shirt while long fingers petted through his fur heatedly. Blast Off's purrs grew louder in volume and vibration as shy fingers finally made it past the thin barrier of his shirt; servos wrapping around the back of his neck as Cosmos was overwhelmed by the rich sensations he was experiencing.

Connecting their mouths again in another kiss, the kittycon slowly pulled the smaller mech's pants down and off his ankles, giving Cosmos enough time to change his mind or push him away before he spread the trembling thighs and eased between them.

"O-ohhh," the astronomer whimpered as he broke the kiss, tossing his helm back. He could feel Blast Off burning hot right against his codpiece and though the new experience was frightening, it was also exhilarating, and the autodog was not surprised when he felt his valve start to lubricate beneath his plating. "B-blast Off...!"

The siamese hummed softly at the call of his name, the vibration traveling pleasantly through the smaller mech's neck cables as his partner slowly moved down his frame; caressing every inch of plating he came across gently. Moving back the pyrenees' frame, he pecked him quickly, looking deep into his optics as he mumbled softly against the other's mouth. "Please allow me in. I wish to prepare you, to spare you any pain."

Nodding quickly, Cosmos let his codpiece retract, shivering as cold air brushed along his sensitive components. But that was only for a moment, before familiar fingers were stroking down seams and nodes; gliding over his spike warmly and then focusing on the flexible seal covering his valve underneath. With little mewls and whimpers, the autodog ground shyly up into his partner, intakes coming shallower and shallower as another servo wrapped about his spike again, slowly pumping him in time with Blast Off's persistent grinding.

It was too much, he thought with a needy keen, unable to refrain from clutching to the kittycon tightly. He would overload and make a mess all over his partner and they would not have even broken his seal yet. Distracted by the humiliating thought, Cosmos gasped in shock when a claw trailed up along the bottom of his spike, stroking several nodes pleasantly just as two claws broke through his seal.

"A-aah... aahh...o-ouch..."

The autodog slowly shifted, sensory grid tingling from his close brush with overload, but quickly coming down from his high perch as the sting from his broken seal began to grow.

"My apologies," Blast Off said softly, kissing the smaller mech's cheekplates and brow, "I thought this might be less painful. We can stop if you'd like."

Cosmos mulled the suggestion over shortly, but his valve was already slowly easing around the fingers -testing, feeling, warming around the claws- and the sting was receding as well. "I-i...," the autodog swallowed slowly, shyly glancing of to the side, "I w-want to c-continue... I th-think."

Blast Off shuttered his optics for a few astroseconds before gently curling his claws up toward the tender walls, drawing a quick yelp of surprise from his partner. "Thank you for your trust," he said, leaning down, pecking the astronomer quickly, "I will do you much honour."

Cosmos could only gasp and moan in response, feeling with sharp clarity every time the fingers curled and brushed inside his passage; parting the supple plating, rubbing gently against every sensor node within range. Whatever sting had remained was gone completely by now, lost in the growing heat and the queer sensation of lubricant seeping from his walls generously, dripping out of his valve and down his aft. Intakes coming in harder and faster, the pyrenees felt his core temperature rocket until he was dancing on the same dangerous edge as before, sensory grid burning with ecstasy as he ground lightly back into the claws.

Right when he was certain he would implode, the fingers withdrew entirely, cutting off his overload again and leaving him shivering wantonly. "B...blast ... O-off?," he choked weakly, helm lolling toward the siamese.

Kissing him for a long moment, the brown mech cupped his partner closer, letting him feel his spike which he had released and pressurized. Shivering again at the feel of the hot cable along his inner thigh, Cosmos whimpered, clutching to the siamese tightly.

"P-please d-do it... I w-wish to c-connect with you. I w-want to b-be cl-claimed a-as your w-wife," he pleaded softly.

Grey optics looked down intently into his own as the kittycon's servos gently grasped his servos; weaving the fingers together as he laid him onto the mattress slowly. Kissing him shortly, Blast Off repositioned himself, allowing the tip of his spike to press just on the lip of the autodog's valve.

"You...," the siamese whispered to his partner as he slowly pushed inside, "Are beautiful..."

Cosmos whimpered at the first stretch pulled a little taut at his passage, before his valve began to slicken further.

"You are kind..."

His legs spread an inch more as he felt Blast Off draw closer, limbs trembling against the mattress.

"You are intelligent..."

Another moan escaped him as the kittycon paused, letting his valve grow more comfortable; clutching and rippling softly around the probing member as his circuits quickly warmed again.

"And I love you."

Optics flaring in surprise and pleasant disbelief, Cosmos arched up into the siamese with a soft keen; his sensory grid crackling in bliss at the stretch and filling of his valve, while his spark soared in love and utter joy. "B-blast Off, Bl-blast... I-i..."

The autodog's breathless stutters were cut off as his partner kissed him again, keeping the lip-lock as he slowly withdrew; pushing back into the tight passage only half-way, before repeating the process. Moaning through their kisses, Cosmos squeezed Blast Off's servos tightly, rocking shyly with the kittycon as they joined in slow, shallow thrusts. Gently, they climbed through their charge, falling into sync as the kliks dragged on and on, spiraling higher toward their peak.

Cosmos thought he would faint. The heat, the pressure, the touch -it was all too much. It burned him, cooled him, stung and soothed. He attempted to break away, to plead with Blast Off to make the conflicting sensations stop, but he couldn't breathe without the breath he received straight from the siamese's vents. He couldn't even see, for every time he onlined his optics all he saw were nebulas and galaxies of vibrant, chilling grey. A starfield in the colour of Blast Off's optics.

The autodog shivered hard as he felt his valve spasm, squirting a stream of fresh lubricant around the spike sliding evenly into his passage as strange sounds escaped his vocalizer. Oh Primus, he whimpered silently, he was going to overload! He wasn't going to be able to stay away from the edge any longer and-

"A-aaahh!"

Cosmos moaned loudly as Blast Off broke the kiss momentarily; shifting, pushing closer, until their chestplates bumped together, striking up toward a bundle of sensors hidden further in the pliable valve. The moment the tip of Blast Off's spike glazed over the cluster, the pyrenees shivered again, his valve clenching and trembling uncontrollably around the cable. This new angle gave the kittycon full power and he used it to increase their pacing a touch; foreheads brushing together as Blast Off hovered over the autodog, pulling sound after sound from Cosmos.

Breathing shallowly, the brown mech again prompted a kiss, sliding upward faster than previously, sending them both tumbling over the edge together.

When reality finally resettled, kliks had passed. Cycling his vents softly, Cosmos slowly onlined his optics, looking up into the grey orbs warmly looking down into his own. "I-i..."

Blast Off gently lifted one of their entwined servos, turning his helm an inch and kissing the condensation-slicked fingers. "We went together," he shared kindly. "Thank you for allowing me such an experience."

Choking up a little, the pyrenees clutched both of the other mech's servos to his chestplates, crying and babbling happily. "I-i love y-you. I l-love y-you so m-much Bl-blast Off, I-i -I c-can't, ca-can't believe- I-i mean, I'm s-so h-happy, I-"

Blast Off gently pulled his servos free when Cosmos' grips slackened, wrapping both arms around the smaller mech's frame and gently rolling them onto their sides. The autodog did not protest the action, instead taking the opportunity to shift closer, hiccuping contently as he was wrapped up securely in the other's embrace. Grey claws stroked softly above the base of his tail and behind his shoulder struts.

"I love you," Blast Off told said softly, pressing a kiss to his ear, "I am ever so grateful that you chose me. I promise to remain loyal to you forever."

"I know you will," Cosmos returned, yawning gently. The excitement of the orn, his ever-present doubts and then the processor-blowing moment of wonder they had just shared had finally taken its toll on the astronomer. He was ready to recharge at last.

Cosmos attempted to open his mouth to tell his bondmate this, but unfortunately, he did not get the chance before sleep tip-toed up behind him and pulled him into unconsciousness. Staring down at the autodog who heavied slightly in his hold as he fell into recharge, Blast Off quietly continued to stroke his plating before drawing the sheets over Cosmos' lax frame entirely; resting his helm on the pillow, shuttering his optics and cupping the autodog closer as he too slipped slowly into recharge.


	41. Dinobots II

**C.M.D: Warning -this chapter does contain sexual abuse against a minor, though the perpetrator does it all in the name of science. Sick science, but science nonetheless. If you find yourself uncomfortable, you may read the censored version on FF.net or skip the first scene of this chapter. The rest is void of anything sexual, promise.**

**Title: Dinobots II**   
**Rating: M**

He shifted on the table, whimpering as his frame gave a little spasm, drawing the thrumming device further into his valve. It twisted and whined harder against his sensor nodes, making the tiny sparkling cry and sob in alarm, while a streak of pleasure flashed up his spinal struts. This wasn't right; this wasn't how it was supposed to go!

"Hmm...," hummed the kittycon from the other side of the room, mixing a vial of those strange, luminescent fluids together. They glowed brightly for a moment, before dulling down into a sickly blue colour to which he set on a rack on his table. "Not exactly what I had expected, but closer results. We're doing better now."

His smoky red optics lifted from his lab notes, piercing into the sparkling chained to the bars of his cage. "And how are you 'enjoying' yourself, my pet?," he asked, a trace of laughter in his tone.

Swoop attempted to snarl, but all that left him were desperate whimpers of need; his legs rubbing against each other, subconsciously wanting to wrap around a wide-set waist but finding only air and the heated plating of his own condensation-slicked thighs. "N...n-no...," the sparkling hiccupped, arching up off the floor of his cage as the vibrator slid in an inch more, driving its motorized tip against a small cluster of sensors.

The wolf wailed at the sensation, his systems clawing even faster towards overload at the stimulation. This was wrong, his conscious screamed in despair. His valve was sacred -meant for the attentions of a mate. Not machines! Not for this cruel, evil device! He felt the kittycon stalk close to his cage, olfactory sensors twitching as if on fire. Once he might have found the other's unnatural scent alluring... but now it stung and burned his senses, reminding him that this mech was no candidate for mating. He was a monster behind a strange helmet, disgracing him... humiliating him... Swoop sobbed loudly as he crashed suddenly through another overload, the bottom of the cage slicking with his lubricants as they spilled out from around the vibrator.

The little sparkling almost didn't hear the lock turning.

"Ah, perfect," the kittycon said, his cold servos sliding into the cage. Swoop flinched, trembling in both terror and sensitivity as those gloved servos spread his legs further, pulling the thrumming vibrator out. He only had a moment of relief before something colder and sharper was being thrust into his valve; the chilling spatula scraping the tender, inner walls, scooping out his lubricants and transferring them over to a small, glass dish. "Hmm... more than I had indeed anticipated, but not entirely enough," the clipped vocalizer announced, before shoving the vibrator back in the unfortunate sparkling's valve.

Swoop keened as the tip of the mechanical device slammed into a cluster of sensitized nodes harshly, causing pain to jolt through the blank haze seeping through his helm. "P-please...," he begged weakly, so tired and overcome with pain and humiliation. His heat cycle had worn off ages ago, it felt, and still he had been forced to endure this torment, only for the sake of this stranger's whim.

"N-no... no m-more... Sw-swoop n-no l-longer want... S-swoop... S-swoop tired, h-hurt... S-stranger n-not taunt a-anymore, pl-please..."

The sharp sound of a snort reached his ears, making the sparkling cringe hopelessly. He sobbed again when he felt the kittycon grab and pull at his chains; making sure that they were well and tight. "Be quiet," the unknown mech ordered callously, slamming the cage shut and returning to his beakers and vials. "The experiments have only just begun."

Swoop rolled his helm away from the kittycon as the stranger continued to mix his vile concoctions, whimpering and crying softly as he realized he would not be getting free or even rest from this cruel torture.

He was trapped...

"B-br...b-brother..."

**xxXxXxx**

It had been a fruitless search. Grimlock rumbled darkly under his intakes as he stumbled into the house, tripping over a chest by the doorway in his daze. Anger flaring at his stubbed pede, the wolf picked up the chest, throwing it across the room with a vicious roar. It smashed against the opposite wall, shaking the very foundations of the cottage.

Uncertainly, Snarl peeked out from the berthroom.

"...You not find him?," he quietly asked, though the answer was obvious.

Grimlock did not say anything for a moment; standing before the door, panting and huffing still. Slowly, he turned his helm to Snarl, acknowledging his brother. At the mech's full attention, Snarl took a step forward, fists beginning to curl at his sides.

"You... you Grimlock search all night. How you not find him Swoop?," the youngling demanded.

The Alpha male's ear twitched slightly, rounding on his brother. "Me Grimlock search hard, search far. Him Swoop not missing, him Swoop stolen."

"St-" Snarl's optics shuttered in surprise, before his entire expression morphed with horror. "He Swoop in heat! He Swoop not be taken by stranger! He Swoop must be kept for future mate!"

"Do you Snarl think me Grimlock not know that?!," Grimlock snarled, hackles rising. The anger was still fresh; the fear and guilt thriving along his circuitry. He didn't need Snarl's statement to cement this horrific reality any further. "Me Grimlock know Swoop be kept for mate. Me Grimlock not want for him Swoop to run off. If him Swoop stayed, he'd-"

The youngling rushed forward, shoving Grimlock back. The Alpha male crashed into the kitchen table, crushing one of the chairs as he tripped and fell. Growling viciously, he rose back up onto his pedes, fists curled as he glared down at his snarling brother.

"Y-you Grimlock at fault!," Snarl shouted, his optics narrowed with rage, causing the larger mech to freeze. "Him Swoop in heat; him Swoop choose brother as mate. Smell strong in room. But you Grimlock _shun_ him! You Grimlock turn him away. Him Swoop flee not in confusion, but pain. You Grimlock refuse to be him Swoop's mate; you dishonour him Swoop!"

"Do not be blaming him Swoop! He not doing this to Swoop's self!," the younger wolf snarled, shoving Grimlock again. "You Grimlock... you are..." He trailed off, spitting to the side in disgust. "You Grimlock stay and sulk. Me Snarl go look. Will not come back until have found him Swoop."

Snarl turned away from his brother, grabbing his jacket and heading out the door. He paused, long enough to glare back at the mech. "You Grimlock better hope brother Swoop okay...," he said lowly, before leaving entirely.

**xxXxXxx**

Finally, he was removed from his cage, that foul device put out of sight, but even then Swoop dared not to hope. Coughing, he shivered, trying to hug himself with his little claws as he scanned the room quickly, trying to see through the dimness, desperate to find a good place to run to. He was swiftly yanked from his task by the kittycon grabbing him again, tugging him harshly towards one of the bare beams in the room. Shivering and whimpering, Swoop was forced into a set of cuffs, dangling from the ceiling above; his arms pulled taut above his helm, unable to cover himself or even wiggle free.

"Time to eat," his captor announced flatly, turning away. The tabby approached a small fridge that had escaped the sparkling's notice earlier on; opening the door and sliding aside multiple canisters and vials of stranger, scary looking substances, before withdrawing a small bowl of energon.

Swoop whimpered and twisted uselessly as the kittycon came closer, his optics glowing strongly behind the smoky green glass of his mask. "Stop it," the mech hissed as he bent forwards, his sharp claws grabbing the spoon and scooping a generous amount onto it. "Do you want to starve, lil' one?"

The wolf growled in desperation, baring his fangs and snapping at the fingers that drew close to his face. Death, Swoop hissed silently to himself, was a much more honourable fate than the one that this cruel stranger had planned for him.

Scowling, the kittycon took a step back from the sparkling, before he set bowl and spoon aside; moving forwards again, noticeably irritable as he grabbed Swoop's face, his claws digging into the plating harshly as he squeezed the sparkling's mouth open. "Well," he growled lowly, reaching to the table and grabbing the bowl with his free servo, "It's a shame you don't really have a _choice_ in that matter, isn't it? You will eat; you will function -because I still have much need for your frame and your CNA. Now be a good, little specimen and _eat_."

Swoop keened sharply as the bowl was thrust upon his lips, before the sound was driven away by the rich, cold fluid suddenly cascading down his throat. Caught off-guard, the sparkling foolishly tried to yelp; the sucking motion of cycling air interrupted the energon's flow down his mouth, causing him to break out into a series of coughs as the fluid accidentally went into his vents. Choking, Swoop thrashed in the kittycon's hold, panicked and in pain.

Still, his captor held the bowl to his mouth, trying to force more energon down before the wolf's systems could handle no more and they rejected the rest of the luminescent, pink liquid; hacking it back up and spitting the rest out in a crude shower. Scowling in disgust, the tabby finally withdrew, grabbing a spare clothe and wiping the wasted energon from off of his servos. "I believe you have eaten enough...," he commented dryly, looking down on the sparkling coldly.

Swoop coughed weakly, hanging limply in his bonds for a moment as he tried to even his intakes once more. He could feel the energon dribbling down his chin and chestplates, and knew by the poor rumbling of his fuel tanks, that he had barely swallowed enough to even be considered a proper meal. The poor thing also knew that asking for more would be pointless -he had upset his captor and now, he would suffer for it. The wolf hiccuped and yelped as his shirt -the only thing still covering his frame- was suddenly yanked and tugged; sharp claws ripping it into strips and then tossing the tattered remains elsewhere.

Naked, hungry and sore, Swoop choked on a rising sob, trying to keep the tears at bay.

His brother Grimlock would tell him not to cry. To be strong. To not let this stranger see his fear or pain.

At the thought of his brothers and his warm home, another sob escaped the sparkling. He wasn't mad at Grimlock anymore; he didn't hate him at all! He was sorry that he was so rash and that he had gotten angry at the older wolf for simply looking out for him. Grimlock always protected him, he would never turn him away if he didn't have a good reason. Grimlock was-

Swoop was ripped from his thoughts with a shriek as a frigid spray struck his tiny frame. Thrashing and flailing wildly in his bonds, the wolf managed to catch a glimpse behind the chilling water, finding the kittycon staring at him blandly as he hosed the sparkling down, as if he was some sort of lawn furniture. Shrieking more, Swoop was unable to escape and was trapped in this torturous "bath" for what felt longer than a few kliks. Finally, the mech turned the hose off, silently wrapping it back into its holster under one of the lab tables and out of sight.

Cold, shivering, wet, humiliated, broken, hungry and in pain, Swoop did not try to stop his tears this time.

**xxXxXxx**

Since the day after Swoop had disappeared, it had been raining.

Snarl shivered, his coat water-logged and weighing heavily on his shoulder plating as he wandered through the empty town; all the autodogs and kittycons wisely tucked away indoors where it was warm and safe. Sneezing again, the wolf tried not to think about his own home, because in doing so he was reminded how Grimlock had failed them for the first time and how there would be no Swoop running to meet him with care-free joy.

Coolant slowly rose to the youngling's optics...

Stopping at the street corner, Snarl quickly wiped away at his face, tired and cold, but determined to find Swoop no matter what. He had searched the woods long and hard before the rains got too heavy and they turned the mud into sink traps. There had been no scent and no clues as to where his little brother may have disappeared. Trying to think, the wolf had changed direction and had stumbled back into town, wandering up every street and alley; thinking, maybe, just maybe, Swoop's kidnapper had not gone very far after all.

But three days of searching had yielded nothing yet but sore pedes and a high chance of catching pneumonia.

Just the thought of how fruitless his search had been thus far struck Snarl so suddenly, that the youngling collapsed to his bottom right then and there; his tail and pedes falling into the rising stream of rain water pouring down towards the drain pipes. "S-swoop...," the down-trodded wolf whispered, tipping his helm back and giving a desolate howl to the black clouds above.

"You Snarl save your tears."

Snarl startled at the voice, turning his helm around only for him to be pitched into sudden darkness. Yanking his helm free, the youngling stared up at his brother; his words catching in his throat. Despite his fur plastered and slick against his plating, Grimlock stood strong against the torrential downpour; fists curled at his sides surely, ears perked with attentiveness and visor glowing brightly through the mist of his intakes. Staring down at his brother, the Alpha wolf readjusted the coat he had just thrown at Snarl, making sure that it covered the younger one's shivering frame.

"W-what...," Snarl coughed, "W-what brother Grimlock doing here?"

Grimlock snorted, yanking Snarl to his pedes. "You Snarl right... Is me Grimlock's fault. Me Grimlock responsible for him Swoop." The older wolf paused for a moment, tousling the extra water from the youngling's ears, before he set both servos on Snarl's shoulders. "You Snarl go home; rest and warm up. You Snarl not smell the other 'bot's scent. You Snarl not able to track it. Me Grimlock will continue search... promise to bring him Swoop home."

Snarl opened his mouth to protest, but staring up into his brother's vibrant visor, he found himself unable to. "Me Snarl... s-sorry...," the youngling choked, this time the tears rising and pooling about his optics, "T-try hardest to f-find him S-swoop. M-me S-snarl fail... F-fail at b-being good b-brother; f-fail a-at trusting you G-grimlock..."

The Alpha wolf said nothing, tugging Snarl forward into a one-armed hug. Squeezed by Grimlock's massive limb, Snarl felt for a moment almost safe and protected, and knew in his spark that he was no longer upset with Grimlock. Something bad had happened... something none of them could have predicted... And no one was to blame but the stranger who had decided to steal Swoop from them in the first place. Wiping away his tears quickly, Snarl sniffed and pushed himself away from his brother; both of them standing awkwardly before each other, uncertain of how to proceed. Sentimentality wasn't exactly their strong point.

"Y-you... you Grimlock find h-him. M-make bad 'bot p-pay," the youngling gruffed out, squashing his embarrassment. He turned his helm up, staring up into Grimlock's visor; watching as the other wolf's jaw tightened at his request, a cold, killing look coming to the glowing band.

"Me Grimlock vow it," he rumbled back lowly.

Satisfied, Snarl nodded his helm, before turning and trodding through the storm back to their cottage in the woods. Only once his brother had disappeared from sight, did Grimlock turn his attention back to the abandoned streets and roads, sniffing the air heavily. When he had told his younger brother to go home... he had been half-lying. Grimlock was not the only one who could track down the kittycon's scent, he did not even need to track it at all.

He had already found it.

Rage flickering deep within his chestplates, Grimlock waded through the puddles and trash, closing in on the source. He'd spent cycles stuck in their home, draining every bottle of high-grade he had stored away; staring, with guilt and self-loathing at every toy and blanket and seat that Swoop ever used and treasured, feeling the cold truth of his participation in his disappearance slowly drive him into madness. The wolf had only ever left in the first place, because he realized that the storm would only put Snarl at risk.

He had not wanted to lose another brother to circumstances...

And then he'd stepped outside... Grimlock sniffed the air again, loudly, heavily, turning off the main road and stalking between two buildings; down, down the dark and flooded alley. The rain created a mixing pot of smells, blending everything from the pine of the trees to the sour stench of red clay together, making it hard to distinguish one scent from the next. Unless...

Unless that one scent carried almost no smell entirely. Too sterile, too ambiguous to be covered up or hidden, even among so natural an eraser as storm rain.

His pedes led him to an old, rusted iron door, half-covered in old and tattered posters and logos; swirls of black, red and blue grafittied over its face. It was the only doorway at the end of this alley and it reeked of nothing, making its presence stand out against the rotting and melting trash all around the wolf. This was the place. This is where the scentless kittycon dwelled.

Sharp fangs twisting upwards in a vicious smile, Grimlock reached a servo toward the door.

**xxXxXxx**

He was dreaming...

The stranger had slipped him something in the last injection he had given the sparkling, and it made Swoop sluggish and sleepy. His muscles would not respond to him and his vocalizer was virtually mute as he laid weakly once more in his cage. Poisoned, the autowolf drifted in and out of consciousness, unable to do anything about the blackness that crept closer every time he struggled to recognize the world around him.

And when he did dip into sleep...

He dreamt of cold and pain, erupting into a earth-shaking roar of rage that echoed forlornly in his spark. He wished to return the call, desperate for union its presence offered, but this was only a dream and other ghouls waited to create their own cacophony. They did so soon after, in a satisfying sound of crushing glass and cracking brick, as if knowing how desperately the sparkling wished to break free from the prison he had fallen into.

He dreamt that the entire, dark world outside his cage was flipped and torn; large claws ripping away the gloom and poisonous vials like smoke, rendering them all figments of a tortured processor as shadows leapt and twirled, crying out in alarm at the danger befalling their home. This destruction could not be stopped and it heralded the birth of light and flame; red, orange columns of tangent vengeance twisting and clawing up to the low ceiling above. The shadows hissed weakly at them, fleeing the fire.

The wolf could almost even smell the ash and tangy scent of flame through the haze of his drugged sleep, and his weak spark pulsed at the marvel and beauty of this chaos. He watched, distant from his own frame and sensation, as the world suddenly became brighter, even as thick, clouting clouds seeped like a dark fog through the dream. He imagined the heat licked close and wished to curl closer to that warmth and be cleansed in its all-consuming mouth.

He believed that was the best these dreams had ever gave him.

But then a looming figure stalked out of the black smoke and flames and he realized he had been wrong before. This -the gift of his brother's presence and strong, valiant form- was the best he had ever dreamed.

"...b...brother... gr... G-grimlock...," he heard himself mutter weakly, like a gasping breath, through the vision.

The crippling band of blue glowed like a beacon through the swirl of colours as the world slowly collapsed all around; getting closer until it hovered above him, silent and unreadable. Still, the sight of it was a dream come true. Feeling himself smile weakly, Swoop gave up any fight left in his circuits, surrendering to the illusion and whatever gifts it sought to bestow upon him in his pitiful state. His cage was ripped apart with barely any effort and his tiny frame tenderly lifted from its confines.

As the imagined creation of his brother turned them to the wall of flame, he could feel the blackness creeping back in and knew that the dream was coming to a close. His spark ached faintly at this realization.

"B-brother...," he whined, his numb fingers struggling to clutch at the dream Grimlock's vest. He did not want to wake up. Didn't want to find himself in that cage once again; alone, humiliated, hurt...

But the darkness called.

Grimlock cupped him closer to his chestplates, his massive arms cradling the little sparkling, protecting him from the flames that roared around them. "You Swoop okay now... Me Grimlock will never lose you again..."

He only had a moment to feel his spark pulse wantonly at the words before he felt and thought no more.


	42. Lockdown and Swindle

**Title: Lockdown and Swindle I**   
**Rating: M**

"Finally got rid of that brat, huh?"

Swindle turned slowly in his office chair, scowling at the mech strutting through the door. Lockdown though seemed immune to the smaller kittycon's sour expression. "I don't remember giving you a key," the entrepreneur grumbled, shaking his helm, turning back to his laptop. "If I find out you've busted my lock again, I'm making you pay for it, aft."

The tiger chuckled, stalking up behind the other mech. His one servo slid around the back of the chair; fingers tickling under the devon rex's chin before brushing down his neck cables and into his shirt. "I didn't break anything... just stole a copy of your key, that's all," he purred, optics narrowed lustfully as Swindle tried to hold back a moan, squirming slightly when Lockdown became more brazen in his molestations.

"Now... How 'bout we celebrate your 'lack of kid', babe?"

The smaller kittycon opened his mouth to stubbornly protest but only squeaked as his chair was suddenly spun around, a hard mouth slamming against his own. Any complaints after that were just as quickly subdued and forgotten.

**xxXxXxx**

When it came to celebrations, Swindle preferred to kick back, relax; maybe crack open up a bottle of vintage grade and hack through some files for hilarious dirt on the most recent spotlight star or politician. Unfortunately, whenever Lockdown was around (and somehow, the fragger had a key to every place that the devon rex owned), such activities were denied to him.

The mooching tiger's idea of a good time was a few bottles of the cheapest slag you could buy, a trashy dive song and then several romps in the berth... or on the couch... sometimes his desk or kitchen counter tops... Lockdown hardly seemed concerned with the time or place that he wanted to frag, nor did he understand that a 'party' typically only lasted for twenty-four cycles. Tops.

Groaning slightly, Swindle tried to roll out of berth, but a sharp hook around his waist kept him from going anywhere. Rubbing his aching helm (curse that lazy aft for shoving piss-poor grade down his throat), the kittycon turned his helm to look behind him; glaring at the unconscious mech.

"Stupid...," Swindle grumbled, numb servos trying to carefully pull the hook out from his hip seams, "...Told you time and time 'gain... take this stupid claw off... not want in my berth..."

He felt Lockdown shift -the only warning he had- before the devon rex was shoved back into the sheets face-first, a sly glossa lapping slowly along a flattened ear.

"Where ya think you're going... doll?," a low rumble came.

"L-lockdown! You horny idiot!," Swindle yelped, wriggling, feeling the cold metal of the hook trail down his thigh, slipping up and in between his spread legs. He whimpered at the cool touch, his circuits warming immediately. "Sl-slaggit! I have work Lockdown- places to be, showers to take and slag! You can't keep hanging around i-in my berth, looking for f-frags!"

Lockdown pressed his mouth to the smaller mech's neck cables, sucking hard as he moved; hips and spike grinding slowly against the entrepreneur's aft. "No way babe," he purred, grinning. "'Sides... you love it."

Swindle cursed, trying to squirm away still, but he was good and trapped. Servos twisting into his sheets, the tan kittycon swallowed back a moan as he was dragged closer to the tiger's frame and held there tightly. "G...g-gonna s-scrap you l...l-later," he mumbled in weak threat.

"Mmm... Maybe ya can do something after we've filled that greasy trap of yours," came the low chuckle.

**xxXxXxx**

"...why do I even have to be here?"

Onslaught scowled, shoving his son into the living room. "Because it's _my_ wife and _your_ new siblings," he growled lightly. "Now, _sit_. He'll be down shortly and I expect you to be nice."

Swindle merely frowned back at his sire, sitting on the couch when directed to. "Can't believe I just can't give my gift and leave...," he grumbled to himself as Onslaught turned to leave the living room. "...I've got work. But no, no one in this family can seem to understand that! Primus, I'd have to move around the globe and even then-"

Swindle glanced to the armchair, suppressing a shiver as he saw green claws curl around the edge of the seat languidly.

"I can see you, psycho...," he hissed, ears flattening slightly. Great. Just great... Vortex was here as well. Sure enough, at his words, the lynx peeked over Onslaught's armchair, red visor glowing gleefully.

"Hello baby brother," he cooed, leaning against the back of the chair, "Did Daddy-o bring you home for the blessings?"

Swindle glared. "He threatened to burn down my office if I didn't."

Vortex cackled loudly at that, leaping over the chair and slinking towards the couch. Swindle quickly drew his legs up onto the cushion, grabbing the pistol strapped under his shirt. Hearing the slight clink of metal, the taller kittycon stopped, canting his helm to the side as he grinned insanely at the devon rex.

"Now, now," he purred, chuckles escaping him, "There's no need to get your toys. I was only curious about your scent..." The lynx made a show of sniffing the air. "It's much... different, than usual."

"Wonderful," Swindle snapped. "Do us all a favour and go be creepy somewhere else. I can't believe you're even still here."

Vortex shrugged, sitting back on his haunches. The sight barely made the smaller mech feel less anxious. "Consider it my alternate form of house arrest," he replied. "Not that I can complain really. There are some... perks... to it, after all."

Swindle scoffed in disgust.

"Vortex...," Onslaught growled as he came back into the room, "I thought I told you to clean the armoury, soldier. Take your greasy servos and that dumb-aft grin of yours and _march_. Before I lock you in the basement with Brawl."

The grey kittycon's grin faltered a bit, but he rose all the same, blowing over-exaggerated kisses to Swindle as he left. "Frag you later, baby bro," he purred.

Making a face, Onslaught tried to shake off his agitation, turning just in time to help the young autodog down the stairs. Looking a little tired, but happy, Skydive gladly accepted the serval's servos, carrying both sparkling into the living room. Catching a quick glare from his sire, Swindle straightened up in his seat; pulling his fingers away from his gun.

"Hello," the autodog greeted warmly, his tone soft as he was gently guided into Onslaught's armchair. "You must be Swindle. Your dad talks about you a lot."

"Only good things I hope," Swindle politely replied, rising to his pedes.

Skydive chuckled. "Nothing bad, I can assure you. He speaks highly of you; he's very proud, even if he won't admit it." Onslaught glanced away, blushing, refusing to look at either mech.

Shuttering his optics slowly, the devon rex turned his helm to the blue mech (obviously younger than him) who smiled up at him brightly. Nothing forced either. Curious. He supposed the shih tzu was at least deserving of some respect, Swindle mused. "So...," the entrepreneur started uncertainly, "These must be the sparklings, huh?"

Swindle walked forwards, looking over the bornlings quickly. One was golden yellow with splashes of mauve, while the other was almost completely black. Both bore distinguishing marks similar to their creators.

"Yes," Skydive smiled broader still, "This one is Motormaster, and this is his sister, Dragstrip."

At the mention of her name, the golden one slowly onlined her optics, staring silently up at Swindle with her deep, red optics. The devon rex couldn't help the little smirk that grew; he could see an intelligence inside this one. Almost conniving. She could grow up to be a useful asset.

The black one... well, judging by the smell, he'd just crapped himself. Tiny face scrunching up in discomfort, Motormaster riled up for a vicious round of screaming, and Swindle decided it was a good time to split.

"Listen, I hate to just run," he said. He ignored Onslaught's glare at the poor excuse, "But I've got people to meet and business to take care of. I've got a gift though." The merchant grabbed the gift bag out of his suitcase, holding it out for the serval to take.

"O-oh my! Y-you didn't have to do that!," Skydive protested, flabbergasted at the present. "I m-mean-"

"Don't worry about it," Swindle interrupted, gathering his things. "It's just a teddy each for the twins. Not much."

"O-oh, well... Thank you," the autodog said, beaming at the devon rex. "Truly, thank you. Please come by whenever you'd like; to see the twins or even your dad. This is your home after all, and the doors are always open to you."

For once, Swindle didn't know what to say. Shaking off his stupor, the kittycon awkwardly nodded back, before actually waving goodbye to Onslaught as he left.

**xxXxXxx**

Swindle sighed, cupping the phone to his ear as he grabbed several boxes out of a grocery bag he'd carelessly tossed onto an empty chair, alongside a jar of pickled cabling. Taking care not to get the cord tangled up in anything, the kittycon circled around the desk, setting the jar on the table top first before dropping into his seat freely.

"Listen, I understand that you're under pressure, but getting good dirt is not something that can be rushed. I promised you that finding Senator Decimus' dirty laundry would be done, and I assure you, it will be done," he said, doing his best not to groan. "You just-"

The devon rex paused as the mech on the other end grumbled loudly in his ear, rolling his optical sensors.

"Yes, yes, I understand that, sir. But, we are talking about probably the only Senator yet without an outward, corrupt history," he continued, "But I can assure you, Mr. Proteus, that there is something about Decimus that will appeal the people toward you more. He is after all, a Senator, and nothing is private when you work for the public."

His office door opened and outright groaning this time, Swindle ripped open the first box of chocolates as he cut off his client's praises and threats. "Right, yes, well, sorry to end this riveting conversation short, sir, but it seems as if my father has just walked in. We'll be in contact soon; goodbye."

Hanging up the phone, Swindle opened his laptop, tapping away at the keys with one servo, as he grabbed a few chocolates with the other. "Do I need to hire some guards or something to keep unwanted visitors like yourself out?," he grumbled, not even bothering to look up at the serval.

Onslaught snorted, sitting down in one of the available chairs. "You know very well there's no one you could hire to keep me out."

Pouting -no, scowling- Swindle refrained from commenting on that sarcastic remark. Grunting softly, the devon rex turned back to his laptop; popping several sweets into his mouth as he blindly felt for the pickle jar.

"What?," Onslaught frowned, "You care so little about your old man that you won't even ask why I'm here?"

"Yep," came the quick reply.

The older mech bared his fangs, trying to hold back a growl. Leaning forward, he smacked a brown lunch bag onto the desk, disrupting his son's work. Narrowed, annoyed purple optics slid up toward him.

"Skydive thought you'd like something to eat. He kindly prepared you a lunch, along with everyone else. Asked for me to bring it to you."

"Mhmm..." Swindle hummed, not even paying attention. He grabbed a pickled cabling, mindlessly munching on it as he fixed his computer. Another chocolate followed before he'd even finished with his first cable. Onslaught watched him studiously, an optic ridge raised in disbelief.

"Since when have you eaten pickled cabling? Let alone with chocolate," the serval asked.

"Since when have you cared?," Swindle shot back. "Listen, I have work to do, unlike some people and I would really like it if you just left. I can do without the whole 'father-son' talk thing or you commenting on how my choice of career fell short of your expectations. In fact-"

Swindle reached over across the desk to grab another pickled cable, but only ended up knocking the jar over. He fumbled to catch it, missing, and ended up with shattered glass all over his office floor; pickle juice seeping into the rug with its rancid scent. Cursing, the entrepreneur got down on his knees and started to pick the broken shards up.

"You shouldn't do that," Onslaught said quietly from his seat. "You might cut yourself."

Glaring at him quickly, the smaller mech continued with his task. "Well you know what, it's got to be done. Otherwise, I'm going to have a pickle-smelling office and my clients are going to flee in embarrassment. It's not like the cleaning staff is coming in until- ouch!"

Onslaught snorted, again. "Told you so."

Swindle quickly grabbed the rest of the glass and threw them haphazardly into the trash bin, grabbing the tissue box of his desk and pressing a wad of them to the cut on his servo. "Shut up," he snarled, "Don't act so high and mighty just because you guessed what might have happened. Primus -why don't you just get out already so I can get back to doing something actually constructive?"

His sire scowled at the words and opened his mouth to retaliate, but Swindle wasn't finished yet.

"You know what, maybe if you stayed home more often, your first wife wouldn't have left you!"

Cold, dead silence filled the room. Cringing slightly, Swindle turned his helm away from Onslaught; almost remorseful about what he had just said. That had been low... even for his standards. The serval himself was unresponsive. He sat there, a big, powerful stone -riddled with cracks and dents, once more silently taking on the brunt of the world. Swindle couldn't deal with that.

"Just... just go already...," he mumbled weakly, throwing his bloody tissue at his sire. "...I have things I need to get done..."

Turning away to avoid looking at his sire directly, Swindle saw in the glass' dark reflection as Onslaught slowly rose to his pedes. It seemed to take an eternity before the older mech actually left, and even when he did, the icy chill still remained for cycles after.

**xxXxXxx**

Mechs and femmes walked through the smoky haze, disturbing the dust and causing the flickering lights to become even more spotted. Narrow optics roaming the crowds, the lanky mech leaned farther into his dark corners; lifting his bottle to his lip components. Three tables over, two strangers were swapping something under the table for a roll of credits -no doubt drugs of some sort- while a gang of drunks tried to corner two, grungy-looking femmes near the washrooms. The muted chaos and crime developing around him were old comforts to the watcher, even as juvenile as they were.

Now if there was only gonna be a brawl to wrap everything up nicely...

"Hey handsome," an old femme crooned, turning into his corner. She raised one arm above her helm, leaning against the wall in what was supposed to be a seductive pose, but only ended up looking more ridiculous, considering the way she had to use the wall so as to keep her over-charged self upright. "Need a little company?"

The tiger smirked, striped tail flicking at his side. "Nope," he replied, finishing his beer. "Just enjoying the show."

"But for a little extra charge-" The femme stumbled as she tried to step forward, crashing right in front of the mech's pedes. Grunting, the tiger rose to his pedes, stepping over the smaller kittycon as she purged all over the floor next.

Honestly, he didn't know why these poor fools bothered. He might not care about who he fragged, but he wasn't going to pick one of the flea-bitten strays that wandered into this dump of a joint. Places like this were only good for business and-

The tiger stopped, staring down at the slightly shorter mech bold enough to block his path to the door. "...what?," he asked, trying to hold back his annoyance. There was a perk, tan aft he wanted to go bang, and this kittycon was only delaying him.

The serval only stared him down silently. "...Lockdown, correct?"

Now he was on edge. "Yea, maybe," Lockdown growled, "Whose askin'?"

The shorter kittycon's mouth split in a fore-boding grin, just before his fist came flying for the thug's stomach plating. The tiger tried to counter quickly, but the stranger got him with another punch from his blind-side, catching him in the side of the helm. Processor whirling from the unexpected force, Lockdown tried to swipe desperately at the serval with his hook but crashed to the floor instead. A pede to the chestplates knocked the rest of the air of out him, dragging him into unconsciousness as well.

Ignoring the few glares sent his way, the older mech reached down and grabbed the thug; draping him under his arm as he shuffled towards the door.

**xxXxXxx**

"Urgh..."

"...great. You're finally awake..."

Lockdown lifted his aching helm at the familiar vocalizer, squinting blearily across the room at Swindle. The usually cocky kittycon was sitting on the couch, laid back and arms crossed sullenly, with his stomach plating rounding a bit over his knees. Confused, and just a little more than indignant, the tiger tried to sit up. That option was obviously crossed off the list when he realized he was bound to a chair -and tightly.

"What the frag is going on here?," he snarled, glaring at the smaller mech.

"Ah," spoke a new voice, the blue and green kittycon from the bar striding into the room, "He's awake. Good."

"You-!"

Swindle vented exasperatedly, rolling his optical sensors. "Yeah, good job, dad," the devon rex said snidely. "It's amazing that he didn't end up in a coma."

"I didn't hit him that hard. Restraint- it's something that you learn in the-"

"W-wait... What the slag?!," Lockdown shouted, looking at both kittycons. "You know each other?" He turned his glare to Swindle once more. "What the frag is it that you're trying to do here, huh Swindle? What, you rat out to your pimp or something that I've been fragging you without charge?"

Swindle's optics flared angrily, but before he could even curse the tiger back, Onslaught was grabbing the back of the taller mech's helm in his crushing grasp; dragging him, chair and all, across the room to the entrepreneur. Swindle made to move, but he could barely sit up straight before Lockdown was being held right before him. The thug stopped his struggling immediately, his shell-shocked expression fixed on the other's abdomen and the swollen stomach plating he could see just starting to form.

"...WHAT THE FRAG IS THAT?!"

"THAT'S WHAT I COULD ASK YOU!," Swindle shouted back.

Lockdown glared at him. "Don't you dare blame me for getting knocked up! You shouldn't even BE pregnant!"

"And I wouldn't be if someone hadn't lied about being STERILE!" He kicked the tiger. "You AFT! This is all your fault!"

"No fragging way! You're just an easy lay! That pit spawn's not mine -you can't prove it!"

Dark chuckling came from behind him, and Lockdown was reminded once more of the twisted kittycon that had brought him here in the first place. Thrown across the room, the thug bounced and crashed in his bonds, ending up on his backstruts; tail partially crushed under one of the chair legs. Hissing, he onlined his optics just in time to see the serval leaning over him, one pede resting on the chair's seat, scratching his chin with a pistol.

"Well, you see princess," Onslaught smirked, "While you were sleeping, I took the liberty of testing your CNA to my son's and the bornling's, and guess what -you're a match!"

Lockdown shuttered his optics rapidly in surprise, before fixing an anxious scowl to his face. "Y...you can't make me stay. You have no right!"

From the couch, Swindle sighed, propping his chin on his servo. "Good luck trying to run away, idiot. My dad's a government-paid mercenary. Ex-veteran of the war. He's got connections everywhere... Oh, and my brothers are in the business as well." He scratched an ear casually. "Why do you think I've never associated with them? Bunch of nutjobs..."

"...S-So get an abortion! I don't want no kid!"

"It's too late for that, moron!," Swindle yelled back. "I'm already five months along -no thanks to your 'honesty'! How do you think this affects me?!"

Amazingly, Lockdown seemed to pale further despite his already white complexion. Letting the two finish their bout of yelling, Onslaught leaned towards the tiger; grinning with a mouthful of sharp fangs, optics lit in mad glee. "Now that that's settled...," he started lowly, a sinister purr seeping into his words. "Congratulations. You knocked up my son. Welcome to the family."


	43. Insectipuma II

**C.M.D: I made a mistake when I was compiling the chapters together and added an extra one that didn't belong. I thus have removed it, but the first part of the Insectipuma stories is now on chapter 24. Sorry to confuse anyone whose been reading previous to this update.**

**Title: Insectipuma II**   
**Rating: M**

Even at a private school, lunchtime was a somewhat loud affair. Turned away from his more louder and obnoxious classmates, sat a young Insectipuma; staring quietly and ignored out the classroom window. He only glanced away when he saw a shadow move towards him in the glass' murky reflection, suppressing his smile as he turned his helm to his cousin. Kickback grinned loosely as he drew up to the other's side, holding out a lunch tray with the chef's special dish that orn.

"You not eat yet; yet," he informed, "You should; should. Good to keep strength up; up."

Shrapnel this time smiled, shortly and reservedly, turning to his desk and sitting. The taller mech followed, setting the tray down and grabbing another chair from a nearby desk, sitting across from his cousin. Not saying anything, Shrapnel gave quick thanks to the deities above, blessing the food for himself, before digging in politely. Kickback watched him, optics dim.

"Other day; day...," he started.

The smaller youngling paused with a fork half-raised to his mouth, shuttering his optics up at his companion. Kickback glanced away respectively. "Other day, that mech; mech," he continued, despite the flinch Shrapnel gave, "He said some awful things; things. Could not ask when we got home, but; but... Were you okay; okay?"

Scowling, Shrapnel dropped his fork back on his plate, leaning away from his lunch. "N-no; no...," he hissed, making sure to keep his voice down. He did not need to have his classmates overhear and have yet more to harass him with. "That m-mech insulted me; me! M-made fun o-of o-our p-people; people... He is no Insectipuma; puma! He is o-one of them; them!"

The enraged kittycon glared at his classmates, fur bristling as they laughed and a few leaned into kiss and whisper lewd things to each other. Their indiscretion was appalling; their behaviour outrageous. They had no restraint, no morales, no thought of consequence for their sinful ways... They would suffer. All of them.

Twisting his helm away from the others sharply, Shrapnel turned his gaze back to the window, staring out its foggy glass to the wet fields beyond. "I-it; it... doesn't matter anymore; more...," he grumbled softly. "S-soon; soon... We will not have to come back here anymore; more." Violet optics shyly glanced at Kickback. "You; you... you and I; i..."

Gold tipped ears perked at the unspoken words; the taller mech straightening up in his seat in shock. "Soon; soon?," he asked quietly. "When; when?"

Shrapnel blushed, suddenly shy. He scowled a little, turning his puzzled and affronted gaze to the desk. "I-i'm surprised they haven't informed you yet; yet," he answered. He sighed, shaking his helm a little. "Elder has t-told me that we will be bonded come the end of this school year; year. We won't have to come back to t-these fools and their ignorant ways no more; more! And; and... and I will not be insulted anymore from outcast tribal kin; kin."

Kickback raised his servo to stroke the stressed, flattened ears, but he stopped part-way; lowering his servo and respectively clasping the two of them in his lap. "I understand; stand. It is soon, but we still have a few months to prepare; prepare," the taller youngling replied. "We shall do our clan much honour; honour."

"Yes; yes..." Shrapnel agreed. He had noticed his cousin's close slip-up and struggled to keep his blush down. Because of the outsiders, a lot of their traditions had been demolished or were no longer possible in this new world. Before they had been rounded up in filthy, little camps, the idea of the Royal heir seeing one's bondmate before their ceremony was altogether taboo. But the Elder could not have sent their only Royal child to a school in a stranger's land, without fear that they might possibly become corrupt through the other younglings.

So they had sent Kickback along as well, so he might learn and grow the same with his betrothed. Still... they were never to touch or speak out of turn with one another, even if they were free from the strict, confining rules of their society.

A hard thing to keep to, at all times.

"You; you...," the smaller puma started, turning his gaze up to his companion. He knew what he was about to ask could be considered heinous -knew that in the presence of his Elders that such musings would have him punished, or worse, stripped of his title- but... he had to know. Curious, violet optics shuttered back at him patiently. "You are; are... happy to be my betrothed; betrothed?"

Kickback swallowed back his gasp, quickly glancing around the room. He realized only a moment after that they were not surrounded by his kin; Shrapnel would not be dragged off and whipped for wavering doubts. Shoulders slumping after being so tense, the bigger Insectipuma tried to smile kindly at his companion, still a little shaken up from his surprise at the question.

"I am very glad to be your intended, Shrapnel; Shrapnel," he answered, servo sliding across the table just a little bit. No more than half way. "I look forward to our bonding and becoming your mate; mate. I promise I shall do all in my power to make your wishes come true; true. I love you and I will love the brood we make as well; well."

He couldn't help the tears that started to well up in his optics. Shuttering them back quickly, Shrapnel smiled back, his spark appeased by the polite, but soothing words his cousin had spoken. "And I am glad that you were chosen to be mine too; too," the youngling confessed softly. His servo joined Kickback's on top of the desk, fingertips only a couple centimeters apart. "I will bring our Tribe hope and happiness; ness."

Kickback canted his helm to the side, optics glimmering happily at the familiar, bold statement. He'd heard Shrapnel speak it his whole life. "I know you will; will."

**xxXxXxx**

Bombshell watched with a growing grin, holding back his chuckles as he eyed the old Insectipuma reaching shakily for the crate of narcotics. It had taken several weeks to perfect the blend, but with some well-spent time and information collecting from his other customers, he'd made a batch worthy enough to coke up the Gods.

"You'll find it's really aromatic -floral- giving you a weightless, surreal sensation while also decreasing motor functions and sensory feedback," he explained, "Good for your growing joint and circuit pain, I'm sure."

The other kittycon paused, his servos sliding across the lip of the box, his greedy optics counting each of the pristine little bottles, with their finely ground powder, nestled safely in their own little slots. "G-good... you say?," he mumbled back hoarsely, his attention forcing itself away from the drug.

Bombshell didn't mind. He already had the mech, anyways. "Of course, Elder," he smirked darkly, stepping forward and slipping one of the tiny bottles out. "This very powder is a gift from the heavens; like stardust itself. Not only will it free your mind from all mundane and useless doubts, but its very effects can heal and warm your people. No more will they have to feel scared, or hungry, or tired or weak..."

He paused, pouring some of the narcotic into a smoke pipe, and handing it to the grasping Insectipuma. "Even selling this to the other tribes will ensure you plenty of riches to help your struggling kin back on their pedes," his hypnotic voice crooned as he lit the pipe for the old mech, "You could be strong and independent once more, even amongst all this pathetic, political power-swapping. Isn't that what you've wished for since your Tribe has been slighted?"

The Tribesmech took a deep drag from the pipe, moth-eaten ears flattening against his helm in bliss as the acrid smoke burned a sour-sweet scent through the room. His one good optic lit with fervent light, the puma wheezed desperately as he finally slipped the pipe away from his ragged lip components, reaching for another bottle. Bombshell quickly yanked the box away. Scowling a little as he realized he had been denied, the Elder looked up at the other mech, thin claws already tightening around the pipe.

"...you come with a price, stranger," he stated slowly, his tone much crisper than before. Still, his optics glanced frequently for the jars; his fingers twitching in need.

Bombshell chuckled. "A treasure this precious would not be free, my dear Elder. I allowed you a taste, so you can understand the power of such a nectar, but you may not have the flower until I have had my payment in order," he informed, all manner of business. He grinned darkly. "Come on... ask me for my price."

The decrepit Insectipuma was silent for a moment, before he wearily sighed, setting aside his pipe; already missing the heavy taste of the fine-powdered narcotic filling his vents with its poisonous fumes. "We do not have much, stranger. What do we have left, that we could offer you in trade for your wares?"

This was the moment he had been waiting for. Bombshell politely held out his servo, standing that way until the confused mech set the pipe back in his grasp, before he leaned back, delicately reaching for another bottle. "You do have one last treasure," he started smoothly, pouring a generous hit onto the pipe's bowl, "A very special one..."

The older puma stared up at the stranger with unease.

"What treasure do you speak of?," he asked hoarsely.

The younger mech chuckled softly. "The only one worth pursuing- your darling, little prince." His optics glowed brightly, his grin twisting up and over his face as he watched the Elder start to snarl, struggling to rise to his old pedes.

"You dare address his majesty so familiarly!?," he hissed indignantly. "You do not have the right! You are a-an outsider; y-you are-"

"Ssh, shh...," Bombshell soothed, circling around the room and gently pushed the Elder back to his seat. "You are getting much too upset for someone in your fragile age." He slyly slipped the pipe back into the shaking puma's servos, lighting it.

"You believe I do not understand the importance of your Tribe's only heir," he continued, pacing around the room again, stopping before the old mech and his crate of narcotics. He plastered his best grin on his face as he leaned across the table. "But I do. He is your God, practically, and I do not wish to slander him... in fact, I wish to worship him, in the greatest form possible."

"I want to take your prince and bestow upon him all that he deserves... and more importantly," Bombshell purred, "I would like the honour of being the one to further your Tribe. Please do not think of this as a bargain or a trade, but think of it as a fair agreement -an assured source of security and income. And of course," he waved a servo over the box, "A life-time supply of your precious, new asset."

The Elder shuttered his poor optics at the other Insectipuma. "But... you are not part of the Tribe... y-you..."

"But I am _still_ Insectipuma- not autodog; not kittycon," the other rebutted smoothly. "And, I am apart of this new world. I am the only one with the resources and knowledge to possibly help you navigate out of this choking red-tape contracts that have led your Tribes to such disaster... Are you really going to turn down all that I have to offer you, dear Elder?"

The old mech opened his mouth again, but hesitated. Wheezing, he took a quick drag from the still-burning pipe, trying to look anywhere but at Bombshell. A useless effort, the younger puma knew. He hadn't spent all that time making his best batch of narcotics, while weighing the pros and cons of approaching the Insectipuma's most vulnerable and corruptible power in the Tribe, to simply lose. And his plans were flawless.

"... He is betrothed...," the Elder started.

"So, break the engagement," Bombshell quickly interrupted, "Go through the rituals; mark me as the prince's new bondmate-to-be. Declare his chosen as no longer suitable, and you will have everything else at the tip of your fingers..." He grinned. "I am willing to confirm to any contract or oath, of your choosing."

The decrepit Insectipuma waited for a klik longer before he realized that he had run out of powder to smoke; scowling, he set the pipe aside, shifting weakly on his bed of pillows. "Very well, stranger...," he agreed hoarsely, coughing as he turned to his hookah. He would need another hit to keep his buzz going. "Please stay for a little while longer. We will discuss the future of the Tribe... and the prince... over dinner and drink."

Just what he wanted to hear. "Of course, Elder," Bombshell smirked toothily, "Whatever you wish."

**xxXxXxx**

A month left of school, Shrapnel was allowed to take his exams early and was excused from the rest of his classes. He left school for the last time with a spring in his step and a smile on his usually scowling faceplates. No more would he be forced into attending this den of heathens, but -and more importantly- now he had to go through the last couple weeks of training and ritual in preparation for his bonding at the end of the month.

Suffice to say, the youngling was ecstatic. The orn he had dreamed of for so long was finally approaching and Shrapnel prayed fervently to the deities, asking that they would bless him with a sparkling to lead his kin out of the darkness they had been ruthlessly shoved into. The puma took the continuous good weather to be a sign of the heavens' good will over him.

Rising one morning, Shrapnel allowed himself to be led to the baths by his sanctioned handmaids; cleaned and purified by holy oils that the femmes rubbed politely into his ears and wrists, before they dressed him in his robes and another set of guards led him to the Elder's house. A summons had come from the ancient mech the night before and Shrapnel was excited to hear what the older puma had to tell him now.

He assumed it was the status of his bondmate-to-be, who had been take out of the reserves by his own escorts to fulfill his part of the pre-ceremony rituals.

Entering the Elder's home by himself, Shrapnel paused to light a stick of incense and pay his respects to the idol set in the alcove by the doorway, before sweeping into the main room with well-practiced flourish.

"Good morning, Elder; Elder. You wished to speak to me; me?," he began. The youngling paused in surprise when he saw that there was no one in the room.

"My, my, my...," a voice purred lowly behind him. At the familiar tone, Shrapnel whirled around, stepping back in horror from the mech that stood casually in the doorway. The outsider puma, he panicked silently. Why was he here?!

Bombshell smirked at the smaller mech's actions; matching each of Shrapnel's steps until the youngling had walked himself into the wall, trapped. "You know, you wouldn't think it," the kittycon murmured, bracing one servo on the wall as he leaned in, "But I think you actually look better in robes than that tight school uniform of yours. They... flow... so lovely against your frame."

Shrapnel whimpered weakly as Bombshell got dangerously close. Still terrified and confused, the youngling could only shutter his optics tightly and press back into the wall, trying to shrink into himself as he felt hot intakes brush against his flattened ears.

"Mmm...," Bombshell purred, cycling a deep intake, almost brushing the smaller puma's fur, "I see they've even bathed you in ritual perfumes. I must say the scent on you is delicious."

"D-don't-," Shrapnel choked, shivering fearfully. "D-don't touch me; me!"

He wriggled around Bombshell quickly, bolting for the doorway. He didn't care if it was dignifying or not -whereas he knew his kin held him in high regard and would not shame him because of their society, he did not trust that an outsider of the clan would take his sanctity just as seriously.

The distance between them now allowed for him to grab hold of his fleeting courage, facing the mech and hissing lowly. "Y-you will not touch me; me!," Shrapnel commanded, fuelled by righteous anger. "I am made holy for both the Gods and my intended; tended. To touch, let alone speak to me, is a crime punishable by death; death! Leave outsider, before I become merciless; less!"

Bombshell remained where he stood across the room, laughing at the smaller puma's declaration. "My prince...," he half-bowed in mocking fashion, optics sliding down the youngling's frame quickly. Shrapnel shivered at the action. "...I won't be going anywhere."

"What; what...?"

"Prince!," a third vocalizer snapped disapprovingly. Shrapnel jolted in surprise, turning and bowing at the Elder's entrance; noting from the corner of his optics that Bombshell did the same. The ancient kittycon coughed, waving off their respect; shuffling for his seat, servo shaky on his cane. "D-do... do not a-address your m-mate so," the old puma hacked, "I-it is dishonouring. Y-you make the Gods upset."

The youngling missed the last part of the comment, his horror fixed entirely on the Elder's prior words.

"W-what; what... what are you saying, Elder; Elder?!," he cried in alarm, hurrying to the other's side. "I am to be bonded to Kickback; back! He is my chosen- for years he has been such; such! What madness brings you to play such cruel tricks; tricks!?"

The Elder frowned down on Shrapnel, yanking his arm free from the youngling's anxious clutching. "Bite your glossa," the old mech ordered testily. Shrapnel flinched at the unexpected reprimand. For a moment, the Elder fumbled with his hookah, ignoring the prince, until Bombshell stepped forward; loading the pipe with a fresh load, lighting it and handing the pipe back to him.

Eagerly, the aging puma wrapped his lip components around the mouth piece, taking a deep drag and exhaling with a relieved sigh. Horrified, Shrapnel leaned away from the other puma; glancing between the hookah and Bombshell with growing realization.

"Kickback has been found guilty of several crimes and is deemed no longer suitable as your intended," the Elder rasped slowly, leaning back in his chair as the drug took effect. "This mech comes at a desperate time, when another must be selected. He proves himself very worthy and he brings offers of wealth and security to our people."

"L-lies; lies!," the youngling shrieked, jumping to his pedes. "Elder, this mech is a sweet-talking heathen; heathen. He dangles treats and coins but only pushes poison; poison. He embodies everything ill and will only bring doom to our clan; clan! I will not marry such a demon nor allow him to stay; stay!"

Bombshell only grinned by the Elder's side, unconcerned by everything that Shrapnel had just spoken about him. Rising forward, the old mech brandished his cane, snarling at the prince as he set his pipe aside. "Silence that ungodly glossa, cub, or be prepared to face the contempt of this tribe," he hissed. "You have only been granted that throne by the Gods and they can take it away from you just as easily! Kickback is forbidden from becoming your bondmate, but this mech has graciously been led to us by the deities to replace that which has been lost, saving us from the disgrace of a mateless ruler. You would do wise not to arouse the anger of the Gods or bring shame to your people."

"B-but; but... I; i..." Shrapnel choked, finding that he could not argue any longer. He was energon-bound to his people: by tribal decree, he was to marry only whom had been selected and sanctified for him by the deities and the Elders. If his selected was found unsuitable, it was considered an unspeakable offense. But if he himself was to remain unwed come the time of his ceremony, that would be a bigger disgrace to the clan.

Even if he continued to protest, there was nothing for him to do. Kickback had been marked; the clan would find him cursed and would not allow him near his cousin any longer. And if Shrapnel kept calling for him, he would be stripped of his crown and rights, curse-marked, and then exiled from the tribe.

That was a punishment he knew he could not survive.

Tears filling his optics, the youngling shakily dropped to his knees, bowing at the Elder's pedes. "Y-yes; yes... Elder; elder... I w-will m-marry whom is w-worthy; worthy..."

The old mech relaxed once more, puffing away at his pipe; victorious optics glittering darkly on Bombshell's face behind him.

**xxXxXxx**

He was victorious. Bombshell hid his smirk as best as possible, accepting the ceremonial wine from the priestess; drinking down his share deeply, before handing it back to her. She then crossed the podium, holding it out for Shrapnel. The youngling lifted his helm slowly, looking at her and the bowl with dim optics, before he too took the wine.

The poor thing looked distinctly spark-broken as his trembling fingers circled the bowl's circumference, bringing it to his pressed mouth. Bombshell watched him intently, following the slight lift and fall of his neck cables as Shrapnel swallowed, finding himself enthralled. He had spent stellar cycles away from the clans; had lost much of their teachings and other ancient traditions. Not that he cared...

They were all silly, really.

Except for this. Bombshell relaxed a bit in his plush seat, staring unabashedly at the prince. Like any proper royalty, Shrapnel was adorned in the barest riches the Tribes carried. Fur-trimmed silk robes hung from his frame loosely, showing the plain, but pure, soft cotton underneath; simple gold chains and bangles covered his neck and wrists; precious gems glittering from his fingers and the old, hand-carved crown on his helm.

As was traditional, the heir was dressed up like a star from the heavens, both a symbol and offering to their Gods. The medallion around his neck -the one the with a moonstone the size of Bombshell's fist- had the older mech's full attention. As part of the rites, after he hunted the wild boar and proved himself worthy of the hunt (aka, marrying the next-in line), Shrapnel would present him with the medallion, symbolizing the giving of himself and a share of his throne. Afterwards, the Elders would speak the ancient puma scripture over them, bless the Deities and them with the boar's blood, then the village would drink and party while the newly-weds retired to consummate their union.

Admittedly, Bombshell looked forward to both the hunt and berthing the youngling later. He wanted those optics to look at him, to lift and shimmer and be struck with awe and forbidden desire as they focused on the kittycon. Not be lowered so demurely... sad... broken... lonely...

A horn erupted, tearing the mech from his thoughts. Turning his helm up, Bombshell saw that the Elder had put down his pipe and was now approaching the pair. "Come, hunter," the old puma wheezed shortly. He held out a knobbly servo, gesturing to the woods. "The beast has been released, and now, you must hunt! Failure will bring shame and misfortune upon you from the Gods... but succeed, and the Deities shall recognize your skill and prowess, and will shine good-will down you for the rest of your life."

Bombshell refrained from snorting, rising to his pedes and stepping down from the podium. He stripped off the simple cotton robe he had been given; watching and smirking in amusement as the gathered villagers gasped softly, breaking out into reverent murmurs at the number of deep and old scars across his plating.

Shrugging off their looks, the mech made sure the belt around his pants was still tight, before strapping the offered dagger onto it. Firearms were considered taboo in the tribe, which meant shooting the boar was not an option. Taking the bow and satchel of arrows that a handmaiden came forward to give him -the only substitute item Bombshell was allowed to take with him- he was only glad that his service in the war had required some time with a crossbow.

The villagers applauded and cheered as the outsider slung both over one shoulder; marching dutifully to the woods to complete his final tasks. Bombshell ignored them. There was only one that the Insectipuma was putting up with all this for, and it happened to be the somber youngling sitting on his little throne, at the top of the podium, with his helm turned down, ignoring the older mech.

**xxXxXxx**

As soon as the crowd had dispersed, heading off to the edge of the forests to wait for their "champion" to return with his kill, Shrapnel rose to his pedes; stepping down from the podium and to the small dais that the Elder himself sat upon.

He lounged easily against his pillowed seat, puffing away at his hookah. Shaking, the youngling bowed, half-crawling towards the old puma. "E-elder; elder," he started weakly. He struggled to keep the sorrow out of his vocalizer, to not sound weak or scared. It was hard though. "Elder; elder... please; please... I know Kickback has been deigned unworthy; worthy... But can we not find someone else; else? Someone worthier than this outsider; sider?"

The Elder slowly withdrew the pipe from his mouth, blowing a ring of acrid, green smoke. His expression was blank as he turned his damaged optics to the prince. Cringing slightly, again, Shrapnel bowed his helm; praying for clemency.

"I-i do not wish to shame the D-deities, b-but I wo-worry; worry! T-this mech is n-not of our t-tribe; tribe- he k-knows not of our w-ways; ways. He h-has been corrupted b-by the o-outside world a-and if I should b-bring our cl-clan glory, I m-must-"

Faster than he would have ever anticipated, the ancient mech leaped forward from his seat, back-handing Shrapnel. The younger puma yelped in fright and pain, crashing to the ground. Taking another drag from his hookah, the Elder stood, stalking toward the youngling silently. He grabbed Shrapnel's servo, ripping it from his cheekplate and forcing the heir to his pedes.

Shrapnel tried to twist away from the other kittycon, dancing on the tips of his pedes as his wrist was held at a high angle. The Elder had hit him... That was a crime punishable by death! How could the Elder do such a thing, to him?! Yet, glancing away from the deranged optics staring down at him, Shrapnel could not recognize this monster anymore.

The Elder grabbed his face next with his free servo, twisting the youngling's helm to face him again. "You...," he gravelled lowly, "Tread along a dangerous line, child."

Shrapnel swallowed back his whimpers and sobs quickly, but could do nothing about his trembles, or the way he dug his claws into the old mech's arm as he was carried back to his throne the way he was. Once on the podium, the Elder threw him down onto his seat, as if he was something filthy.

"You will _stay_ here," he intoned dangerously, his worn optics lit madly, "And you will wed your chosen. And you will do so _happily_. If you refuse... or act out of turn... you shall be escorted straight to the Red Lake."

Shrapnel froze. The Red Lake was what they called the clearing over the hill from their reserve; an evil place where those who had committed heinous acts or had become an abomination to the Deities was killed, so as to spare the rest of the clan from suffering in consequence. No royal had ever been taken there...

Shivering, torn with fear and the urge to flee, Shrapnel hugged himself; keeping his helm bowed and away from this evil being that hovered over him, until the Elder finally returned to his seat, taking his madness with him.

_'Deities,'_ he cried inside, pressing his face to his knees in desperate prayer, _'Help m-me...'_

Only the loud trumping of the tribunal horn (announcing the return of his chosen and his kill), echoed over the village, mocking the youngling's hopes.


	44. Blast Off and Cosmos VII

**Title: Moving**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: It's time to move into a new home**

Cosmos padded slowly down the apartment hall, curious to know what had become of Blast Off. It had been a cycle since he'd last seen the siamese and the silence was starting to stir his anxieties. Stopping at the spare room they used for storage and office space, the pyrenees quietly pushed the door open, peeking inside. He was both relieved and somewhat surprised to see his bondmate sitting inside. The kittycon had his back to the door, several boxes situated around him; open, but so far, untouched.

"Blast Off," Cosmos gently called, opening the door a little more. "What are you doing...?"

He walked slowly into the room, padding up to the siamese, just as the taller mech turned his helm to him slightly. "...I'm sorry if I have concerned you with my silence," Blast Off apologized, "I was only sorting these boxes."

Cosmos smiled, touched by the kittycon's thoughtfulness on his behalf, leaning a tad forward to look over the other's shoulder. His optics set on the boxes at Blast Off's pedes, shuttering in surprise at their contents. Large, small, messy and glued with a child's servo, there was a variety of crafts and cards sorted neatly in the boxes -gifts, Cosmos realized, as he saw the big, chicken-scratch scrawl reading _'To Blast Off'_ , barely legible on various pieces within each box.

"Wow...," the astronomer gaped softly, somewhat amazed by the number of gifts, "You must have been very loved."

Blast Off shrugged, setting the hard playdoh figurine in his servos back into one of the few boxes on his right. Quietly, the kittycon started to close the boxes back up, stacking them in pairs of twos. "You're going to keep them, correct?," the pyrenees questioned, looking up at Blast Off as he stood to full height. Grey optics turned down to him quietly, shuttering in mute thought.

"I don't believe we have the necessary space..."

"But, they are gifts," Cosmos replied, almost saddened by the implications that the siamese may not keep the sentimental items, "Shouldn't you hold on to them...? To, at least, remember those that gave them to you?"

A brown ear perked slightly, but slowly Blast Off looked to the boxes; bending down quickly towards the autodog and kissing his forehead. "Thank you for your concern. I shall put them in the closet then," he answered softly.

Beaming at the realization that he had been helpful, Cosmos stood by contently, watching as the kittycon moved the boxes into the closet, stacking them one atop the other. Just before Blast Off closed the closet doors, the pyrenees noticed the names scrawled in marker on each side of the boxes.

Four from Brawl, three from Swindle, and one lonely box with the name Vortex written on its side.

Then the closet doors were closed and Cosmos was left to wonder silently who these mechs were and what importance they had to the siamese.

**Title: Chubby**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: Cosmos spends some time at the combaticon household**

At the first poke, Cosmos hadn't minded. He'd flinched a little, but he had refrained from doing much more than that. At the second jab, the pyrenees squeaked and squirmed on the couch fully, trying to get away from the thick digit still hovering near him. Big, red optics shuttered up at him innocently.

"...you're fat," the large serval said.

Cosmos paused, actually unable to come up with a response. After meeting Brawl earlier (and getting crushed in an unexpected hug), he was still trying to adapt to his bondmate's sibling. It was a little strange, he admitted, to be around a mech who was not only bigger but older than you, yet whose processor was also constrained to a certain mentality. Still, the serval was nice so he supposed it wasn't such a bad thing.

"U-um, I-i'm not-," Cosmos tried to say, before Brawl wriggled closer, poking him again to the astronomer's squeaking chagrin.

"Do you have sparklings inside you too?," the kittycon asked, optics glittering excitedly. "I want brothers! More brothers!"

Blushing, embarrassed and uncertain of what to say, Cosmos squirmed again in his seat, scrambling for words. He was saved the task when Blast Off entered the room, bringing Skydive with him. Along with two bundles in his arms. "Hello, Cosmos," Skydive smiled, walking over and sitting in Onslaught's chair, "How have you been?"

"W-well," the pyrenees smiled back politely, "You've had the little ones, I see."

Blast Off patted Brawl and gave him a toy before sitting down on the couch beside the autodog. Glancing momentarily at the serval, Skydive sat each of the bornlings comfortably on his lap, turning them to Cosmos to view. Already, the twins were awake; the femme sucked her thumb quietly, her red optics studying everything intently, while the mechling chewed sourly on a pacifier.

"Yes," the shih tzu replied, beaming. "A bit of a long labour, but they finally arrived. This beautiful one here is Dragstrip, and this is her brother, Motormaster." The pacifier dropped from Motormaster's mouth and he turned his helm down to nibble toothlessly on Skydive's servos. Dragstrip was now watching Brawl as he drove his little truck around the armchair.

"Would you like to hold one of them?"

Cosmos shuttered his optics in surprise at the question, having been caught off-guard by such an idea. He floundered for a moment to reply, mouth gaping, but he didn't even get a sound out before Skydive was rising to his pedes; taking the few steps across the room and gently lowering Dragstrip down into the other autodog's spread servos.

The moment the tiny sparkling was in his servos, the pyrenees felt all the air escape him. Feelings of fear, awe, disbelief... want... swirled through him, mixing and blending, as he stared down into the tiny optics staring back up at him. The bornling's red gaze was hypnotizing, as if she could read everything inside of him... and yet there was no mockery there, just silent understanding. For what felt like an eternity, Cosmos lost himself -only the fourth time that he ever had in his life- and was jolted when someone gently thrust a bottle into his line of vision.

Embarrassed again, the astronomer smiled shyly up at Skydive, taking the baby bottle and lowering it to the femme motioning for her food. Dragstrip grasped her bottle as soon as it was within reach, tiny lip components wrapping around it hungrily. Optics flaring a little, Cosmos stood like an audience, unable to tear his gaze away from the sparkling. She was amazing... precious... tiny...

From beside him, Blast Off watched, the only one at that moment to notice the subtle changes overcoming his bondmate. Grey claws covering his mouth, the siamese leaned back against the couch, lost in thought.

**Title: Yearning**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: He thought he was content**

Blast Off wasn't home.

If he was, Cosmos wasn't so sure he would have been able to do this. But he needed to know -had to check- or otherwise he'd never be happy.

Pacing the hallway, the pyrenees tried to keep himself calm, but it was getting harder and harder. His optics kept glancing at the clock, watching the ticking hands as they torturously circled around the white face. He didn't really have a right to be unsatisfied, a part of him argued, it was selfish! He was married, he had a loving family, his dream job, a wonderful bondmate...

Servos wringing together desperately, Cosmos paused in his turn, staring at the clock. The red hand seemed to hover tauntingly between the last several seconds, not wanting to move, making its victim stare with bated breath in overwhelming anxiousness.

His life was great! He knew that, could see it, felt it!

The autodog barely shuttered his optics before he realized the red hand had finally jumped ahead several notches, dragging the minute hand along with it. Immediately, Cosmos was in the washroom, his shaking servos scooping up the thin stick waiting on the counter top. He tried to focus but it took much too long for his optics to center in and comprehend the little lines glaring back up at him.

And then he felt his spark wither and burn out inside.

He barely made it to the toilet seat, before his knees gave out under him completely; one servo cupped to his mouth as tears rolled thick and hot down Cosmos' cheekplates.

In his other servo, the negative test hung limply in the pyrenees' trembling fingers.

**Title: Family Matters**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: Blast Off gets a call**

"...I'm glad you could come..."

Blast Off waved off the waitress that came his way, slipping into the booth, sitting opposite of his sire. Onslaught sipped from his cup of oil for a moment before he put it aside, servos folding on the table top. The siamese was unaffected by the subtle intimidation tactic, though he was aware many lesser 'bots would cower or even shrink away from the kittycon's persistent, flat gaze.

"You asked for me," the younger mech replied.

His sire nodded. "I did. I wasn't too certain if you would come still, or if you were busy with your new life. How is Cosmos doing by the way?"

For a moment, it didn't seem as if Blast Off would answer, but the question was polite and sincere -and he was not going to be rude to someone who wasn't being rude to him, especially his sire. "He is... well."

An optic ridge lifted on the serval's face. "You hesitate...," he pointed out, "That's not like you. Are you sure everything is alright?" The taller kittycon nodded and said no more. Waiting a moment, Onslaught continued, sighing.

"Anyways... I did call you out here for a reason. See, your brother's gotten sparked..."

If one didn't know where to look, they would have missed the subtle flick the siamese's ears gave.

Catch it though, Onslaught did. "It's not Brawl, either, by the way," he was quick to add. "No, I'm talking about Swindle. He's sparked -lab results show about five months. Interesting bit... he doesn't seem to know."

"Swindle is... sparked," Blast Off repeated, in flat disbelief.

"With some street punk's sparkling," Onslaught added gruffly, downing the last of his oil. "You know the one Vortex likes to crack jokes about? Some albino kittycon... Yeah, well, apparently Swindle knows him more than as a friend and the punk certainly doesn't look like creator-material."

As surprising as this bit of news was, the grey mech knew that wasn't why he had been called. "...you intend to make him keep his end of this... 'bargain'?," he asked slowly. His sire nodded.

"I figure some... 'quality time' together might help him realize that some forethought ahead of time would save him a lot of trouble later," the serval explained. "So we're going to grab the punk, take him over to your brother's, clean out the apartment of any... unsuitable... items and then make sure they stay there together."

Locking the devon rex in his own apartment, with his sometimes frag-buddy? Sometimes, Blast Off had to wonder if the older mech wasn't starting to lose it himself. Dusky blue optics stared at him, waiting as the kittycon quietly mulled over what had just been told to him and the choice he now had to make. After a long pause (wherein, Onslaught had resorted to picking at the table with a finger from growing boredom), Blast Off opened his mouth.

"I shall help." He raised a servo before his sire could reply. "But only in surveillance. I rather not be involved personally in this."

Onslaught snorted a bit, but nodded. "Very well. Help with the clean-out and surveillance, and I'll make sure that you're not mentioned in the helper's list. 'Sides, I can always make use of your two other brothers for damage control... or trauma." The easy shrug the serval gave showed that he didn't care that he was knowingly subjecting both Swindle and his "beau" to unavoidable mental scarring.

Family. That's what they were. Apparently.

Blast Off tried not to think about the definition of that word too much as Onslaught waved the waitress down for a refill, already babbling on about the details of his plan.

**Title: Chicken Soup**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: Something is troubling his bondmate**

It was a little later than Blast Off would have liked when he returned home.

He hung his keys on the key rack by the closet door as he entered the apartment, olfactory sensors picking up the faint scent of dinner on the stove. Sure enough, entering the kitchen, the kittycon found his bondmate at the oven; stirring a pot of soup diligently. A soft rapt on the doorway informed the pyrenees that he was not alone.

"B-blast Off," Cosmos smiled, turning his helm and catching sight of the brown mech. "You're home! I di-didn't know what time you would be back so I just decided to make some soup for myself. N-not that it's very good, but-"

Blast Off crossed the room, stroking down the autodog's backstruts as he drew the other in for an embrace. "Sorry I am late," he apologized with a kiss to Cosmos' brow, "My father called me out to discuss some things with me."

The pudgy astronomer only smiled, nodding. "T-that's alright. Would you like some soup?"

At the siamese's gesture, Cosmos waddled over to the cupboards excitedly, pulling a clean bowl from the dishwasher. "What did your father wish to talk about? Is Skydive and the twins doing well?," he asked politely, returning to the stove.

Blast Off vented softly as he turned to the upper cupboards to get them glasses. "Apparently my youngest brother, Swindle, has become sparked. He is expecting in only a few months time." Brown ears perked sharply as something clattered loudly behind him.

Turning around, the kittycon was just in time to see Cosmos tremble before the stove -bowl at his pedes and soup splattered on the floor- before the autodog took off for the berthroom in a flash. Blast Off's reaction was just as instantaneous.

In mere astroseconds, he stood outside their berthroom door; one servo resting on the wood as he silently listened to the quiet tears echoing from the other side. Unable to even utter a question, the siamese slowly opened the door, entering the room just as unnoticed. Cosmos sat on their berth when he entered, face buried in his servos as he wept.

"...Cosmos..."

Blast Off knelt before the autodog as he reached up with one servo, grey fingers wrapping around his bondmate's and gently prying it away from his face. With a tiny flinch, the pyrenees slowly onlined his optics; his other servo coming away, revealing his tear-stained face. "N-no, pl-please...I-i..."

"Talk to me?," the other mech replied, wiping gently at a wet cheekplate. "I am here for you. Always. If you trust me, please... talk to me."

Cosmos optics swam with thick tears and his bottom lip component trembled as he struggled to maintain gazes with Blast Off. "I-i ju-just... I d-don't..."

"...did something I say upset you?," Blast Off pressed gently, hoping to appease the other's sadness soon.

The astronomer hiccupped violently before him, twisting his helm away with a keening sigh. Apparently, his words were a trigger because further sobs and broken sentences gushed from Cosmos' trembling mouth instantaneously. "I-i... i-it's se-selfish! B-but you... w-we, f-for t-the last b-bit n-now," the pyrenees wailed, "I-i on-only wa-want... e-everyone else h-has -wh-why n-not m-me?! W-why... wh-why... wh-why n-not..."

Everything clicked.

Cosmos' occasional withdrawal from him, his strange behaviour with his half-siblings... Cupping the autodog's helm in his servos, Blast Off gently pulled the smaller mech to him, pressing their foreheads together. He waited until he could catch the other's optics before even speaking.

"I am sorry that I never noticed before... and that you felt too afraid to come to me when you were hurting so much," he spoke softly, "Tomorrow -I promise- we will go see a vet. Everything will be okay."

Cosmos sobbed, optics flaring in uncertain hope at the siamese. His own optics dimming, Blast Off kissed the autodog softly, stroking his ears. He never knew that the astronomer had been so desperate to start their own family -the last few visits to his sire's home and even tonight's news must have been such a hard blow to the sensitive autodog.

"We will work hard, together, and you will have your chance to be a carrier. Trust me."

Again, the pyrenees sobbed, but this time he threw his arms around his bondmate's neck; pulling him close as he buried his face into the other's warm fur. Though he would have preferred to ease away Cosmos' tears, this was progress, and Blast Off was satisfied that they had at least made a step forward towards resolving this problem.

And true to his word, he would take them to see the vet tomorrow. To solve the mystery as to why Cosmos had not yet gotten sparked and rectify it as soon as possible.


	45. Insectipuma III

**Title: Insectipuma III**   
**Rating: M**

Patience.

That's what it all came down to, Bombshell noted, washing the blood and dirt off with a damp sponge. If one was patient, took their time, then all possibilities were available to them. Sweet rewards were never too far away either. Stripping off the last of his clothes, the insectipuma finished his sponge-bath, slipping on the luxurious cotton robe that had been left for him.

Bombshell ignored his reflection in the washroom mirror as he turned for the door, opening it and stepping into the next room. Patience had brought him to heaven. Awash in a variety of rich reds and passionate violets, the berthroom of the newly-wedded royal was an amazing display of exoticness and luxury; with fabrics soft and draping, pillows of gentle material, gold baubles and illumination coming only from a hundred or so burning, scented candles. But the true treasure was the thin puma that sat weakly at the edge of the berth, servos twisted in the canopy sheets anxiously.

"My prince," Bombshell called, a hint of amusement in his vocalizer. He circled the berth as he approached, coming to a stop before the youngling. "My, oh my... don't you look... _divine_."

Shrapnel slowly lifted his chin, looking at the mech with dim optics. If it were not for the tears that pricked at the corners of his optics -occasionally sliding down his cheekplates, marring the glittering powder decorating them and his optics- the smaller kittycon would have been so beautiful. As it was, such a sight on the gorgeous youngling unsettled Bombshell and he frowned.

"...you are crying," he announced flatly, swatting the robe's folds out of the way so he could rest his servos on his hips. He forgot that he was nude underneath. Shrapnel merely shuttered his optics up at him before slowly rising and sitting on the berth this time.

"You have won; won. Claim your prize; prize," he replied, in a death-like murmur.

Bombshell shuttered his optics in surprise. There was no denying that the youngling was a prize to be won, but the older puma didn't want a victory like this. For Shrapnel to give and surrender, as if this action would bring him death. Slowly, he stalked forward, purposefully circling the berth and sitting on the side, just behind the smaller kittycon. Shrapnel did not protest as he rested his servos on his shoulders; a small sob did escape him though as Bombshell leaned closer, close enough to nip the flattened ears, his servos slowly sliding the silk robe down, only exposing Shrapnel's shoulders and neck.

"Tell me, my dearest prince," he whispered lowly, nuzzling for a moment into the other's fur, "Why do you weep? It is your wedding day..."

He thought Shrapnel would not answer, but as he slid down to mouth the back of the heir's neck, another sob escaped the youngling. "I-i did not w-want you; you!," he sobbed, hugging himself in a weak attempt to stop the other from continuing. "You were not my chosen; chosen! Kickback was to be mine, and I his; his!"

Bombshel's optics narrowed. He had never liked that youngling, simply put. Too simple-minded; his eating habits annoying. But he hated him even more upon discovering how close he could have lost Shrapnel to him. Holding back his growl, Bombshell let his fingers stroke up and down the other's plating as he schemed. "...did you love him?"

Shrapnel nodded, claws digging into his robe. At the sight, the mech smirked, having found his angle.

"Tell me then... why didn't you run?"

Shrapnel stiffened at the low whisper. He thought to face Bombshell, but he stopped himself before he could, knowing that it was exactly what the other mech wanted. Instead, he hugged himself tighter, trying to hold back his tears. "S-silence; silence!," he hiccupped. "Y-you only wish to confuse me; me! I won't l-listen to y-your poisonous words; words!"

"On the contrary...," the older mech continued to whisper. His servos slid off from the youngling's frame. "I'm just curious. If you truly loved him and hated me, why didn't you run?"

The smaller puma didn't know what to say. "B-because; cause... B-because I-i am d-duty-bound; bound!," he snapped in response, trying not to shake.

Bombshell smirked. "I don't believe that is it. See... I don't believe you truly loved that Kickback at all," he added, taking a moment to watch delightedly as the silver ears perked slightly, "I believe what you truly love my prince, is your throne. From the moment you were born, you have been told it is your Primus-given right. You would do anything to keep it and your status... because it is the only way you can save the poor, miserable loafs the Deities gave you to rule over."

"Oh, I am not saying you don't love them, but they are a far-cry from the great warriors they once were and it would be shameful to the Gods if you did not do something with your blessed existence to rectify it. Kickback had been your chosen- you knew this and exactly who he was. And in your optics, you saw him as a valuable tool for the clan. But now, he is gone and you both fear and hate me because all your perfect plans are no more, and you worry what that would mean for the tribe..."

The youngling had not interrupted even once yet. Triumphant, Bombshell rose from the berth, taking care to walk towards one of the shuttered windows; peering out through the slits to the celebrating crowds beneath. "I do not wish to seek destruction, my dear prince. In fact, I have come to do the opposite," he continued, ignoring Shrapnel for the moment. "You see my modern ways as sinful... but, why not think of it this way? I have money enough to clothe and shelter your clan properly; to keep their tanks full. They would not need to squabble or beg anymore. And my knowledge of this new and ever-changing world, would lend an advantage to your heir. They would have all of your faith and traditions, and all my knowledge and resources... Exacting revenge on those that have stolen everything from you, would not be an impossible task."

His statement finished, Bombshell waited, letting his words work their magic. He wasn't surprised to hear fabric ruffle lightly; turning his helm, the kittycon stared at the youngling as he faced him, optics lowered still, but now lit suspiciously.

"Y-you; you... what do you want; want?," Shrapnel mumbled in demand. "Mechs like you carry a price; price."

The older mech kept his expression neutral. "I would have thought it was obvious. I want _you_ , my prince. I want your fire, and your divinity; your weakness and your humanity. If you allow me to have you -wholly, as you would have your previous chosen- then I will give you all I have said. I promise you this."

Fanciful words, he knew, but Bombshell was so close to winning now. He would pull any tricks to seal the deal. And indeed, his offer seemed to appeal to the heir. Glancing off to the side for a moment, Shrapnel quietly contemplated what the older puma had said, before his helm slowly nodded. Lust spiked through the mech as he watched the youngling situate himself more delicately on the berth; long, thin legs peeking out from the robe's folds and chestplates showing as the fabric slid further down his shoulders.

"Come then; then," the sharp, self-important vocalizer commanded. "Finish this union and bring me the brood you promise; promise."

Bombshell hardly needed any more incentive. He crossed the room quickly, ripping the other's robe open, exposing the unseen plating to the room. Despite his best efforts, Shrapnel still cringed at the violent action and Bombshell slowed down, noting that the prince was indeed a virgin, and that this would need to be approached differently. Letting his servos slide down the thin arms tenderly, taking the rest of the robe with them, the older mech picked the youngling up; guiding each of his legs to wrap around his wide waist, one servo cupping Shrapnel's aft as he stepped onto the berth.

He shoved the robe off the berth entirely, before laying the prince back down onto the white fur duvet, letting his servo trail down the shivering chestplates. Still, Shrapnel held his gaze stubbornly as he trailed a claw down his stomach plating, breaking it only when Bombshell teased the seam to his codpiece next.

"No...," Bombshell husked, bending down to brush a kiss to a silver ear, "Let me see you, my prince. This is a special moment -one that should be remembered."

Shivering, the youngling twisted his helm back to the older puma, gasping slightly as his mouth was immediately captured in a kiss. Small servos grabbed at his shoulder plating, claws digging in, as the smaller puma whimpered into their conjoined mouths. His claws dug an inch deeper as Bombshell began to slowly grind the heel of his palm into the other's codpiece. The kittycon kept his pace slow and even, so as not to frighten his prey.

If the trembles wracking Shrapnel's frame were any indication, he was still very uneasy, but he did not protest or beg the older puma to stop, when Bombshell detached from his mouth to target his neck cables next. Purring at the cute display of bravery, the vendor rewarded the youngling with a harder grind between his thighs; almost growling with want when Shrapnel released the sweetest of cries.

From that point, it was barely kliks before the protective plating was sliding back, revealing his sensitive equipment to the air. Immediately, Bombshell pulled back from the clutching arms, gazing down between the prince's legs intently. Still fully sealed -both spike and valve. Bombshell smirked.

His prize was untouched; the visual confirmation satisfied the older mech beyond words. Shrapnel shifted self-consciously on the berth and the kittycon looked up, catching the prince's bashful, glaring optics. "Do not fret, my prince," Bombshell chuckled lowly, "I was merely admiring your most sacred beauty. I am... honoured, you have kept to your traditions, even in this ever-changing world."

He loomed back over the youngling, his servo once again sliding down anxious chestplates, heading lower.

"But now...," the older mech purred, optics flared lustfully as Shrapnel glanced away in shyness, "Now it is time to receive me, your chosen."

The smaller puma gasped loudly as sharp claws stroked the seals, before a thumb and fore-finger pressed onto the covering and began to grind heatedly on them. Whimpering, struck by the new sensations, Shrapnel clutched again at Bombshell; unable to stop every moan and mewl that escaped his vocalizer as the older mech rubbed between his thighs, while his sinful mouth nibbled deliciously at the tip of one of his ears.

It was so hard not to just release his spike and slam into the moaning mass beneath him, right then and there. Growling lowly as Shrapnel released another delicious cry, Bombshell twisted his fist into the duvet, practically trembling with restraint. There would be plenty of time enough to pound the youngling's aft later, he told himself, but right now he had to _work_ his prince first. If he just plunged into the virgin without care, he could be certain that he would never have Shrapnel's trust. And trust was important, if his plans were to be truly successful.

Still, just thinking about the thin form writhing under him, did not make following through on his plans any easier. Licking up the ear one last time, Bombshell quickly bent and grabbed Shrapnel's mouth again in a searing kiss, needing to silence some of his sounds in any way possible. Delicate servos scratched at his shoulders when he did, Shrapnel bucking up into his grinding servo, just as the seal on his spike snapped. Bombshell growled a little in his chestplates as he felt the thin cord pressurize right along his thumb, coated in pre-fluids and remnants of the seal.

That was when Shrapnel twisted his helm away, breaking the kiss, as his intakes struggled to cycle air. Surprised by the action, but not angry, Bombshell bent lower to nip and suck at the condensation-slicked neck cables; his fingers now focused on grinding his final obstacle to nothing.

"N-no; no...," the Shrapnel whimpered, arching up into the older puma. Small servos tried to scratch and grab at the other's arm, trying to get him to stop. _This_ annoyed him. Stopping his rubbing -but not removing his servo- Bombshell lifted his helm, staring down at the youngling.

"...why?," he wanted to snap. Shrapnel cut him off before he even had a chance to say it though. "Y-you; you...," the prince said slowly, cheekplates still flushed, "You must c-claim me as intended; tended... Not with y-your fingers; fingers."

Ah. Yes, that silly belief that a union must be consummated through a quick and painful entry. Bombshell didn't understand why the Tribes seemed annoyed by the idea of foreplay, especially regarding virgin heirs, but he wasn't going to argue the point with Shrapnel. If he wanted his final seal to be broken by him plunging his spike into his untouched valve... Well, Bombshell would oblige him. He doubted the prince didn't know that it would hurt, and he'd already worked it down to a flimsy pink covering anyway.

Sitting up, the older mech stripped off his robe, letting his codpiece retract. Immediately, his spike pressurized; already slick, and the small, ridged plating around its length slightly flared. He must have been more affected by the youngling's noises than he had thought, Bombshell noted. Shrugging it off, the kittycon leaned back over his prize, smirking when he noticed that Shrapnel was looking stubbornly at the ceiling above their helms. No doubt he had glanced at the other's spike and had been alarmed.

Precious virgins...

Purring, Bombshell spread Shrapnel's legs open wider with one servo, rocking his hips forward slowly, taking extra care to glide his spike up the other's aft and along the thinner cord. At the sensation of heated plating against his own, Shrapnel gasped, shivering for a quick moment.

"Scream for me... my prince...," the older mech husked lowly against his lip components, capturing them into another biting kiss; lining up with the sealed valve, pressing on it for barely an astrosecond before ramming straight through, to the hilt.

True to expectation, Shrapnel yelped into their connected mouths; optics flared and leaking coolant as the claws found their way to his shoulders again, this time piercing the plating shallowly. Bombshell only grunted for a moment at the sting, too focused on the legs trembling tight against his thighs and the valve that clenched around his spike wetly.

"A-ahh...ah, f-frag...," he hissed, fighting to remain still. Shifting, the older mech nudged against the youngling's helm, mouthing an ear -waiting as patiently as possible until Shrapnel adjusted.

"M...m-move; move...," came the weak whimper, "... P-please; please..."

_'Very brave indeed...,'_ Bombshell thought. Bracing his knees better on the soft fur, he grabbed Shrapnel by the hip with one servo, fisting the sheets with the other, before slowly drawing out of the youngling. The smaller puma hissed as he did so, but neither his legs nor claws retracted, keeping Bombshell close. Purring, the kittycon slowly thrust back into his partner; picking up his pace only when the valve begin to give more easily around him, slicking further.

"A-ahh!" Shrapnel clawed further at Bombshell's shoulders, helm tossing back as the other mech increased his pace. It still hurt, all raw-like, but he was quickly forgetting that as something hot and fluid gushed through him. He knew to a point what was happening, but he could barely apply those facts to the rocking of his frame as he was smothered by the older puma. "B-bomb...; bomb..."

Words were nigh impossible; silence, even more so. Every sound -embarrassing and unexpected- fell out of his slacken mouth, filling the air quickly, fighting for dominance between the primal growl that his bondmate released and the audio track of their sacred union. The combination of everything -noise, heat, pounding- was rapidly building pressure and despite how hard he tried to remain focused -to cling a little longer onto his sanity- inexperience and the Deities were against him. He only had moments to notice this fact before that very ball of molten heat within him erupted; the most inappropriate of wails escaping his mouth as Shrapnel jerked hard, lubricants splashing down between their frames.

Like a cruel friend, sleep jumped up and blind-sided the youngling as he burned pleasantly in the fading embers of his ecstasy, dragging him quickly under and out of thought.

He only had the passing realization that Bombshell had not reached his own peak, before he was out.

The youngling was practically already passed out...

Optic ridge quirked at the lax puma beneath him, Bombshell slowly pulled back; hissing as his rigid spike slid sensuously along the warm valve walls. Primus, how he just wanted to keep pounding that tiny prince, even if he was unconscious. But that would subtract from some of his enjoyment, he knew, and besides, he had an audience waiting for him.

Getting up, the older mech gently nudged the recharging Shrapnel off the duvet, pulling the fur blanket up into his arms as he marched for the large window across the room. He threw the shutters open, standing unabashedly naked above the crowd of villagers, who had fallen silent at his entrance. The tension, as they waited with bated breath, was palpable. Bombshell smirked.

Grabbing both corners of the duvet, he lifted it to the skies; the pale, energon stain embedded into the soft fur, visible for all optics to see. Immediately, a raucous of cheering, ecstatic Insectipuma exploded into the air, a band even starting up a loud tribal beat as the party continued. Slinging the duvet over the sill, Bombshell walked back into the room, surprised to find Shrapnel sitting up slowly, rubbing at an optic as he turned to the other mech.

"You; you... Y-you have not finished; finished...," the youngling mumbled, looking over Bombshell slowly. "I have dishonoured you; you."

The kittycon canted his helm to the side an inch. "I was under the assumption you did not like me, prince," he replied, crossing his arms behind his backstruts. "I wasn't going to impose my presence on you, more than was required."

He did not bother to comment on how elitist the youngling was, and how every moment to this point had been nothing but careful and diligent manipulation on his part. Bombshell wasn't sure how he was going to deal with this union himself. Putting up with the heir's constant demands, stubbornness, religion, traditions... It was going to be a nightmare. And so far, the trade-off had been less than worth it.

Purple optics narrowed at him, a sensual pout forming on soft lip components, as Shrapnel crawled towards the edge of the berth. "Come; come," he beckoned sweetly, stretching out across the satin sheets; his optics glowing seductively as they remained glued to the older mech.

Bombshell could not contain the rapid pulse of his spark as he witnessed this other, unknown side to the youngling. He certainly did nothing about the feral growl that slipped out when Shrapnel hiked his aft into the air; spreading his legs so his succulent, virgin aroma scented the air, still looking at Bombshell expectantly.

"The seeding has not yet been completed; leted," the youngling purred.

Well... this may not have been that bad of a decision after all. Smirking, Bombshell stalked toward the berth; spark rotating faster and faster as he saw Shrapnel sit up to receive him. He would have never expected the youngling to come around so quickly. Such obedience! Such sensuality! This wasn't turning out so bad at all, he thought. In fact...

He may just learn to love the little prince at the end of it all.


	46. Lockdown and Swindle II

**Title: Lockdown and Swindle II**   
**Rating: M**

"...it's locked..."

After knocking Lockdown out, still tied to the chair, his sire had forced him to his berth for recharge the previous night.

"...What do you _mean_ it's _locked_...?"

Leaving the devon rex to wake up the next morning with a very _large_ , very _grumpy_ tiger. If he thought that had been the worse part, Swindle was realizing that the orn was about to get more stressful...

"I mean it's fragging _bolted_ ," Lockdown snapped, tugging uselessly on the knob, "Ya as deaf as ya are ugly?!"

"Frag you!," Swindle yelled back, seething a safe distance from the albino. "I sure as slag ain't the one sneaking into _my_ apartment at the _dead_ of night, insisting _I_ was the 'sexiest' thing since whips were made a legal sex toy!"

He was dutifully ignored.

"Would you stop yanking on that slagging thing?!," the entrepreneur continued, fangs bared. "You're only going to-"

The devon rex was cut off by a loud crack as the knob gave out under the thug's relentless abuse; Lockdown stumbling back, crashing to the floor, caught off-guard by the sudden give. The utter look of bafflement the tiger wore was too good -Swindle cupped a servo over his mouth to stifle the snicker that rose, but it was too late. Glaring at the smaller kittycon upside-down, Lockdown rolled back up onto his pedes, snarling viciously.

Afraid for a moment that the thug was going to kill him, the devon rex quickly shuffled back a few steps; stopping when instead of lunging at him, Lockdown attacked the door, kicking and punching the wood furiously. Covering his ears sourly, Swindle watched as his companion continued his assault to no avail.

"...you're an idiot," he commented snidely once the tiger gave up.

"Shut it," the other growled lowly, kicking the door one last time out of spite. "Maybe the windows..."

"Bolted," Swindle announced, having just walked over and tugged on one of the sills experimentally. A groan of frustration erupted from behind him. "I believe this is to keep you from bailing out of your 'commitments'," the entrepreneur added.

"I _hate_ your fragging family!," Lockdown snarled.

Swindle scowled. "The feeling's mutual."

Optics narrowing at the devon rex, the thug said nothing; the two locked in a seething staring contest. After a few kliks, Lockdown threw his servos up in the air, grunting with aggravation before stomping off to the kitchen.

"Where the slag you keep the booze in this place?!," came the yell.

Sighing, Swindle turned and followed after the other kittycon, arms crossed over his chestplates sourly. "As if you're gonna find a drop here!"

**xxXxXxx**

It had been three orns.

Three orns that they -him and that idiot- were locked together in his apartment. And since then, Swindle hadn't a moment of peace! If Lockdown wasn't hogging the couch, eating his food and blaring the t.v at primus-damned cycles, then the tiger was greasing up his shower, using all of his toiletries; cursing and grumbling and being a downright nuisance over all. He never cleaned up after himself, the apartment becoming a mess of opened wrappers and half-eaten nibblets, all extending from the couch and outwards.

The mess wasn't the only annoying thing though.

The devon rex had heard every complaint and insult under the sun possible since and, amazingly, he'd refrained from killing Lockdown. Though that was more likely due to the fact that his sire had removed all of his firearms from the apartment -even the knives from the kitchen. He didn't even have the distraction of work, since both his laptop and other such electronics were removed from the apartment. Presumably sometime that same night.

Stepping out of the shower, the entrepreneur reached for a towel; pulling back with disgust as he noticed the greasy, brown stain covering the front of it. Hissing, Swindle gathered his clothes, stomping out of the bathroom.

"You dirtied my last towel!," he snapped to the lanky mech lounging on his couch again.

Lockdown paused in his channel surfing to glance flatly at the smaller kittycon. "...so?"

"So? SO?!" The yellow mech stomped a pede angrily. "So how am I supposed to fragging have a shower when there's not a clean towel in this slagging place? Its not like I can get new ones with the doors and windows locked!"

The tiger merely shrugged, going back to what he was doing before the other kittycon had come storming out. "Why not air dry. Or better yet, stop glitching at me."

Swindle stared for a full klik at Lockdown, jaw hanging open in utter and complete shock. The thug on the couch did not respond to the stunned entrepreneur standing in the doorway one bit. Frustration bubbling in his tanks, Swindle turned and started storming out of the room; freezing in place when a wolf whistle broke out behind him. The devon rex had forgotten that with his clothes clutched to his chestplates, his entire backside was exposed, and looking behind him, he was not overtly surprised to see Lockdown staring at his aft.

What did surprise him was the leering optics with matching smirk and rumbling purr that the tiger bore.

"...ya know babe, from behind, yer still sexy as slag," he purred. "Think, maybe...?"

Ears perked in alarm, Swindle bolted for his room, afraid that the thug might pounce on him at any moment.

**xxXxXxx**

Aside from the towels, there was another issue of food. Though Swindle wasn't big on cooking he could at least prepare himself simple meals and then get take-out for anything more extravagant. Lockdown didn't seem to care about cooking of any sort -and he _ate everything_. The fact that the smaller kittycon even had something to eat every orn was a miracle enough.

Waking up, feeling something pushing a little uncomfortably at his side, Swindle slid out of berth; undoing the locks on his berthroom door before tip-toeing out into the rest of the apartment. Technically speaking, it was early in the morning, but even with sunlight pouring over the horizon, Lockdown was stretched out on the couch, snoring loudly. Snorting contemptuously, Swindle continued to the kitchen, rubbing his stomach eagerly.

He knew he had a bag of rust-bolts stashed away at the back of the top cupboard and he looked forward to ripping into that little bag of zesty treats. Opening the cupboard doors, the devon rex peeked inside; shuttering his optics quietly at the empty space that greeted him. There wasn't even his bag of rust-bolts.

Closing the cupboard, Swindle opened the rest, frantically going to the fridge next when all he saw was shelf after empty shelf. The fridge was just as cleared out as the rest of his cupboards, except for a can of mixed nuts that strangely sat behind the half-empty mustard container.

Shaking it though proved it to be just as much of a dud as anything else.

Scowling, Swindle stormed out to the living room, throwing the canister at Lockdown's helm. It hit with a resounding clunk, bouncing somewhere across the room as red optics shuttered online blearily. "Mwrhaa...?," the tiger mumbled, slowly pushing himself up.

"You PIG!," the entrepreneur shouted, kicking a limp pede for extra effect. "I'm stuck with your fragging spawn and you eat everything in _my_ apartment?! I'm hungry, slaggit!"

The albino frowned, becoming more alert by the astrosecond. He stuck a servo underneath him, rustling out the very bag of treats Swindle had been looking for initially, tossing the small morsel at the devon rex.

"There," Lockdown grumbled, "Now would ya quit yer whinin'?"

Clutching the pathetic morsel (barely a quarter of the bag!) to his chestplates after nearly fumbling it, Swindle glared, giving the nonchalant kittycon another weak kick. "I hate you," he seethed.

"Walk along. I only want to see yer aft as ya go," the tiger replied, laying back down, wiggling his two fingers in imitation of walking. Hissing irritably, the devon rex did turn around, hurrying off with the little food he'd managed to wrangle.

**xxXxXxx**

"Wh-what the- DAD?!"

Swindle shot up in his berth, hugging the sheets to his frame as he almost fell off in his backwards scramble. Onslaught did not say a word as he reached out for his son, grabbing his arm and straightening him up, before throwing him a bundle of clothes.

"Get dressed," the serval ordered, "You've got an appointment at eleven, then shopping afterwards."

Pouting, the entrepreneur did not protest; staring at his sire quietly when he did not move. "...can I get some privacy?," he grumbled.

The larger mech quirked an optic ridge but shook his helm, turning to the door. "You have five kliks," he said as he opened the door. "Brawl, be a good boy and give the pale kitty some-" The rest was cut off when the door closed behind Onslaught but Swindle was already frozen in his seat.

The devon rex scrambled to get dressed, hoping his quick obedience would spare him from having Brawl sprung on him.

**xxXxXxx**

"I hate you."

Onslaught paused, glancing back at the smaller mech, before pulling the crate of energon onto the cart. "That's nothing unusual," he replied, walking on as he went through the grocery list. Swindle followed sullenly at his heels, arms crossed over his chestplates.

"Why can't you harass one of the others? There's four of us."

The serval checked off another item, putting it into the cart alongside everything else. "If you remember or not, Blast Off is now married, Brawl is mentally retarded and Vortex..." Onslaught paused for a moment. "Well, your brother is a _very special_ case. Special in the manner of speaking that he is a pain in my aft and the most uncorrectable 'bot ever born."

The entrepreneur didn't reply, unable to provide a decent counter-argument to his sire's statement. It was true, after all. "...I still hate you."

The ex-soldier hummed in acknowledgement but kept shopping.

"Why did you have to make that aft stay with me?," Swindle demanded after a moment. "I mean- he's rude, disgusting, a total slob. He's done nothing but turn my entire apartment into a dump and complain about me the entire way!"

"And yet you decided to repeatedly associate with him, and more importantly, romp around in the berth with said slob," Onslaught pointed out. "And now you're carrying his bornling."

"..." The devon rex was silent for a full klik.

"Did you want to buy some maternity clothes, or should I let Skydive have that honour?," his sire asked, looking at him again.

"...if I'm going to have to put up with this for another three months, _I'll_ be doing my own shopping," the yellow mech grumbled, waddling off to the clothing section. Onslaught rolled his optical sensors, grabbing another box of crackers off the shelf before turning the shopping cart around and following after his son.

After this whole horrific outing had finally come to an end, they returned to his apartment. Swindle tried to study the modified lock his sire had installed on his door, but Onslaught noticed and quickly pushed the smaller kittycon into the apartment. The devon rex grumbled at being herded along, though he was quick to forget about that when he walked into the main room.

"...why is _he_ here?!," he demanded, rounding on the serval.

"Oh! You wound of me lil' bro!," came the responding cackle- which Swindle _ignored_.

"Someone had to keep an eye on your guest," Onslaught answered, not looking one bit repentant, "And I needed to keep him somewhere for a few cycles anyhow."

"But why him?," Swindle almost whined, thrusting a finger at the lynx lounging on the couch.

Vortex purred, nudging a pede against the tiger's chin; grinning wickedly when the taped up thug gave him a wary look. "Me and Locky had fun while you were gone," he cooed. "Didn't we, kitty? I think they should go out for a lil' while longer, then we can get to some funner games."

Lockdown quickly shook his helm, staring at the other two desperately. Sighing, Swindle rubbed at his optics, trying to push down his impeding processor ache. "Can you just take him, _please_? Put him back in whatever cage you have at home."

"Hmph," Onslaught scowled, not responding to the initial demand, "Vortex -groceries. Put them away. _Now_."

The lynx rolled off the couch, blowing a raspberry childishly. He was ignored by everyone. "You always spoil my fun," he pouted, breaking out into another insane grin as he skipped towards Onslaught. "A shame that you look like a bloated beach ball," Vortex directed to his bother, "A few drinks and some special syrup, and I'm sure we could all have some real fun then. Even with your stupid, big, ugly optics."

Swindle was quick to shuffle behind his sire, glaring at him from around the larger kittycon's arm. "You're sick."

"I know," the grey mech purred.

Struggling in refrain from smacking both of his idiotic sons upside their helms, Onslaught pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensor, venting heavily under his intakes. "Vortex," he growled, "I gave you an _order_."

"Yes, sir, daddy-o sir," Vortex replied, saluting mockingly, before grabbing the large load of groceries and carrying them to the kitchen.

Shaking his helm, the serval headed for the couch, dropping down onto the seat beside the bound tiger; Swindle following quickly after. "Now tell me, stray," Onslaught began, reaching up and tearing off the tape covering Lockdown's mouth, "Are you gonna behave or do I need to leave my son in the kitchen there to babysit you every week during outings?"

Hissing at the painful sting, the tiger slowly worked his jaw, slow to reply. "...maybe."

The green mech nodded, pulling a small carton of booze out from behind the couch. Before Swindle could splutter a demand about how long _that_ had been sitting there, his sire cracked a bottle open; cutting one of Lockdown's servos free and shoving it into his fingers. "Good choice," Onslaught replied, patting the thug's helm roughly.

"Hey!," Swindle yelped, drawing back his stinging fingers. He glared at the serval opening the very bottle he'd tried to sneak away.

"You don't get this," the serval stated flatly, "Go to your room or what not. Your laptop has been returned."

Ears perked in surprise, the tan kittycon fidgeted; torn between wanting to steal some high-grade for himself or return to his long-missed computer. Five astroseconds later, Swindle was waddling off to his office and sweet, blessed work.

**xxXxXxx**

"...your family really is crazy."

Slowly, Swindle turned in his office chair, elbowing the pillow he'd set behind him to make his seat more comfortable. One look at the tiger leaning haphazardly on the doorframe confirmed that Lockdown had been enjoying the recent return of his own treat as well. Stupid thug... stupid sire... What he wouldn't give for a drink himself.

"Thank you for finally noticing," the entrepreneur scowled, turning his attention back to his laptop. "Why don't you go back to drinking and watching that primus-awful slag you call television. I have work to do."

There was silence for a klik as he typed quickly, optics glued to the glowing screen. He almost jumped when he heard the floor creak behind him, a heavy presence lingering behind him. "...what are you doing?," Swindle asked uncertainly, hunching forward a bit in his chair as he glanced behind him again.

Lockdown ignored the question, actually taking a slow swig from a bottle he held in his servo, leaning against the leather seat. "Your sire frags me off," he rumbled quietly, focusing his dim optics on the devon rex. "But that other one. That... that..."

"...my supposed 'brother'?," Swindle helpfully supplied, quickly getting annoyed as he watched the thug struggle to find the word he was looking for.

"Mm... yea. That freak." The tiger took another swig, shuttering his optics slowly when he realized there was nothing left in the bottle. "Huh... Yea. That freak is... freaky. Slagger's not... right."

Swindle quirked an optic ridge flatly. Lockdown may not have been slurring but he was definitely drunk. His optics kept going out of focus, his intakes rank of stale high-grade, and he kept spacing out his words in unnecessary intervals. Shaking his helm, the smaller mech turned his attention back to his work, doing his best to ignore the other kittycon.

"Yeah, I know he's not right in the helm. Which is why I try to stay away from him as much as possible."

The tiger didn't move from where he stood. "...ya frag him?"

Swindle spun around in his chair. "Excuse ME?," he demanded, vocalizer shrill. He couldn't decide if he was pissed off or disgusted! With the way he was feeling, it was probably an overwhelming dose of both. "What the frag sort of question is that? Who the frag do you think I am?! If your dumb-aft response is gonna be calling me a whore, you better-"

The rest of the devon rex's angry tirade was cut off as Lockdown lunged forward, locking their mouths in the sloppiest mimicry of a kiss. Growling in the back of his vocalizer, Swindle grabbed the thug's shoulders, digging his claws in irately. He didn't even have the chance to shove the other back though before a servo was wriggling quickly into his pants, cupping his codpiece. Spluttering, the entrepreneur quickly twisted his helm away, squeaking and gasping shortly.

"W-what... what are you doing?!," he squeaked again, sliding forward into the tiger unintentionally as he squirmed. "L-lockdown, st-sto-"

Lockdown pressed the smaller kittycon into the chair awkwardly, licking up the trembling neck cables as he purred. "Mmm... wantcha... pretty babe...," he mumbled disjointedly, nuzzling and nibbling further in his drunken state, "Gonna frag ya... good... real good..."

Even when shined to malfunction, the thug was still grabby; his fingers petted and tapped impatiently at Swindle's codpiece, before flat out scratching and picking into the seams. Despite everything he might have felt about the idiot, the devon rex couldn't stop his circuits from humming, a charge building fast and quick. He wanted this; wanted to feel normal again.

"S...s-stupid...," Swindle whimpered, codpiece retracting as Lockdown tried to push it out of the way again. He barely had an astrosecond to prepare himself before three fingers were plunging deep inside his valve, ripping a small shriek from him. Wrapping his arms around the tiger, the entrepreneur dug his claws in, desperate to hang on. "Y-you- ahh! O-oh, f-frag, I-i... I n-need i-it! Pl-please! Please, y-you big st-stupid- L-lockdown!"

The tiger purred loudly, pressing down harder, knocking the chair over completely. The smaller kittycon yowled out in pain as they dropped, hissing angrily up at the other mech, only to have any of his insults again cut off via mouth-to-mouth. It seemed even after that reckless fall, Lockdown's only interest was getting into his pants.

Rolling his optical sensors, Swindle let the the tiger yank his clothes out of the way, grinding close as he mewled.


	47. Insectipuma IV

**Title: Insectipuma IV**   
**Rating: M**

Waking up in a nest of fur was unfamiliar.

Waking up to something small and wet pressing gently against his lip components was unexpected.

Onlining his optics slowly, Bombshell quickly surveyed his surroundings, eyeing the 'bot hovering above him quietly as his memories caught up a moment after. He remembered now -how could he even forget? He'd spent the last few decacycles diligently setting up every trap and ploy to get a taste of the wild prince that had peaked his interest.

And now he had him.

"Awake; awake," Shrapnel said lowly, remaining his close position. His optics were a curtain of startling amethyst and hooded secrets. "You sleep too long; long."

"I have reason to," Bombshell purred, lifting a servo and resting it languidly on the youngling's hip. His claws tightened just a tad in possessiveness as Shrapnel placed the bolt berry (the tiny, damp item pressing on his mouth from earlier) onto his glossa, plucking another from the clay bowl he held.

He vaguely recalled when the prince's handmaiden had brought the food in the other orn -blind-folded as was tradition, to preserve the sanctity of her leader in the most intimate of natures with his mate. The femme had brought tray after tray of fresh fruits and meats, an entire feats, before departing again. Remembering what waited for him outside of the berth brought the kittycon's tanks to a hungry grumble. After three orns (had it really been three orns?) he was practically ravenous.

And here he was: being woken by a temptuous lil' puma and hand-fed by royalty itself. Bombshell could almost dance in wicked glee.

"What wakes the lil' prince this morning?," the older mech asked, accepting another berry. His claws ran lightly up and down the base of the heir's tail. Shrapnel, for his part, remained amazingly unaffected.

"The rites have been completed; leted," he answered, "Now we must see the Elder; elder. Then my people; people."

Not 'our'. _'My'_.

Though this self-proclaimed entitlement would annoy him in anyone else, Bombshell silently admitted that he liked it on the youngling. Made the fact that he'd cheated his way into stealing the slender prince all the more rewarding.

"And what of your 'seeding'?," Bombshell pressed further, unwilling to get up just then. What could he say- he was comfortable.

Shrapnel set the bowl aside, turning out of the berth. The kittycon assumed the smaller puma would grab the cotton gown he'd been dressed in the night of their bonding, but the prince didn't even approach the discarded robe. Instead, he stood straight and proper, chin lifted importantly; regal and proud despite his nakedness. The sight made Bombshell's mouth water.

"The seeding shall continue later; later," Shrapnel replied, glancing shortly over a shoulder. "And it shall continue until I have acquired the brood you promised; promised. But not now; now."

"You are certainly determined my prince," the older mech purred, sitting up finally. The insectipuma ignored him as he headed for the bath, leaving Bombshell to trail after him. Hot water had already been drawn (when, Bombshell had no clue) and a myriad of perfumed oils and salts awaited them for their bath.

Already, Shrapnel had sunk into the steaming tub.

"Allow me to assist you," the larger kittycon said, bowing mockingly, approaching the youngling and the bath.

Shrapnel did not respond as he grabbed a clothe, soaping it, before sliding it slowly along delicate shoulders. Bombshell pretended to clean the heir a klik longer, dipping down the thin arms and then below the water entirely. Shrapnel gasped as the claws found their mark, but still did not protest even as he was pulled back against the edge of the basin; his helm turned to the side and sharp fangs nipping at his neck cables hungrily.

The show of fealty, and the way those slender legs trembled -torn between wanting to close and knowing better than to refuse his mate- sent Bombshell's circuits humming. He would have the prince, here and now, again, just like any time previously in the past few orns. Because he was the "chosen one"; Shrapnel's betrothed and the only mech to ever claim and invite the virgin youngling into a world of sinful wonders.

Denied he might be to everything else, but even the smaller puma knew he could not deny Bombshell this. And this, the kittycon decided, climbing into the tub, intent on making the heir scream and cry before tribal rituals dragged them elsewhere, was fine enough.

**xxXxXxx**

"I have been waiting...," an old vocalizer crooned as they entered the house.

Surprised -but not really caring about the statement- Bombshell took his time to survey the Elder's house as the pair slowly approached the main room, from which the vocalizer had first beckoned. It seemed odd, he thought. He may have only been in the little home a couple times before, but he was certain that some of the religious decor and tribal markings had been removed or displaced.

Then again, with the low-burning candles and the haze of smoke clutching the air like a heavy fog, it was hard to tell. In either case, it didn't seem as if Shrapnel had noticed any changes (for surely if he had, the religious lil' nut would have made some sort of fuss, wouldn't he?) because the youngling turned immediately into the den; curtails of his tribal robe sweeping along the floor as he went. Bombshell quickly followed -and almost crashed into his younger companion.

Taking a short step back, the older mech glanced upwards to see what had caused the hold up and felt surprise flicker shortly in his spark. The Elder sat upon his cushioned throne, smoking from the hookah as per usual, but the ancient puma did not look himself. Robe splayed open loosely, amulets and tribal bearings seemingly thrown on haphazardly, withering limbs covered in a myriad of toxic-looking veins with optics bright and feverish. The old coot even had his servo creeping out of sight behind his handmaiden, who looked equal parts ashamed and frightened as she knelt beside the Elder.

Considering how poorly dressed she looked herself, Bombshell could understand her expression.

"... _what is this; this?_ ," Shrapnel hissed, fists curling slowly at his sides.

The Elder took a slow drag from the pipe. "Sit," he ordered, blowing an acrid ring of smoke. The handmaiden flinched as it curled around her ears, but did not flee. "You have made me wait for too long. I had expected you sooner."

No respect, no use of deference or even proper title... This was not the same, old coot Bombshell had bullied and bribed into giving him his way. Withered and senile, sure, but no longer the same. Red optics glanced to the side as he noticed the stiff jolt ran through Shrapnel subtly; it seemed the prince had noticed the lack of title as well and was ready to throw a fit.

"We were in the bonding room; room," the youngling replied lowly.

"Yes, and you took much too long. How much time is needed to disrobe an ignorant virgin anyhow?," the Elder returned flippantly, his handmaiden stifling a squeak as she dropped her helm down further.

At the last statement, even Bombshell could not mask his shock -nor could he ignore the fact that the ancient puma was clearly fondling the poor femme, right in their royalty's presence no less! This was certainly unfolding into an unexpected visit.

Ears perked sky high and shoulders held stiffly, it was amazing that Shrapnel didn't make some sort of scene at the insult. Instead, the youngling uttered a resonating, "Leave; leave," and the handmaiden scrambled to her pedes immediately, fleeing from the den.

The Elder shuttered his optics in surprise, before they narrowed into slits, boring into the smaller insectipuma. "I do not recall giving you _authority_ within this house," he threatened, "It seems already you've disgraced and forgotten your place since marrying the heathen, as set by the Deities-"

"Do not talk of gods; gods," Shrapnel cut in scathingly, taking a regal step towards the frail mech. "You only bring further wrath upon yourself; self."

The Elder's patchy fur bristled, first at the disrespect, then at the following comment. " _Wrath?_ What are you-"

"Silence heretic; heretic," the prince coolly commanded, "Or you shall be dragged out of the tribe by your filthy glossa; glossa."

Bombshell stood back as Shrapnel came to a stop a few feet before the irate tribesmech, becoming more and more interested in seeing how this would unfold. Right now, it was like watching two vipers being dumped in a pit together, fangs bared and hissing.

"...you dare talk to your Elder like this?," the old puma growled, bringing the pipe to his lip components. "You disrespectful, little-"

The Elder's optics flared brightly as Shrapnel silently slapped the hookah to the floor, spilling its wasted water and toxic powder across the carpeted floor. "The disrespect is all your own, Elder; elder," the youngling said coldly, not even flinching when the ancient puma leapt to his pedes. "You have-"

Bombshell's tail flicked in surprise when he saw the withering mech raise a servo to strike the prince. The kittycon's hesitance proved to be a good thing- with a crash, the Elder was pinned to the floor in the next moment, tribal beads wrapped around his neck and wrist like a choke collar; a pede pressing the patchy helm into the ground. Above him, Shrapnel stood, lavender optics glowing brightly and servo wrapped tightly around the rest of the beads, holding it high as if it was a leash.

"You; you," the smaller insectipuma continued from earlier, "Have disgraced not only the clan, but yourself as well; well. To be worthy of the title 'elder', one must be wise, unbiased, oversee and put the best of the tribe before anything else; else. You have failed to do this; this."

The Elder tried to spit something at the youngling, but he was quickly silenced.

"You tried to disgrace me, by _selling_ me to an outsider; sider," Shrapnel hissed, anger slowly seeping through his cool persona, "And all for a _fix; fix_?! If the tribe knew of your grasping desires, they'd be as disgusted as I; I. But, you are lucky- they are ignorant and you would have gotten away with this madness if not for one thing; thing. Me; me."

The prince pressed harder on the other puma's helm, grinding an ear under his heel. Bombshell canted his helm to the side, unable to keep the smirk from growing on his faceplates. He had never seen this side of the youngling -the control, the righteousness, the authority- and he was becoming more amused by the astrosecond.

Bending low, Shrapnel canted his helm at the wheezing Elder, meeting the older tribesmech's one viewable optic. "Do not fret, Elder; elder," he soothed mockingly, "I will not address your crimes or addiction to the others; others. But know that your station no longer holds any value; value. You will shortly die and there will be no ceremony to honour your sinner's spark; spark. What becomes of you after, the Deities shall decide; decide."

The beads clinked as they slid from the ancient puma's throat, Shrapnel dropping them on the table as he turned away fluidly. Bombshell felt his circuits hum faster and hotter as the little prince approached him regally; his spark even giving a little pulse when the youngling drew up to his side, a thin servo resting on one of his scars. The kittycon was tempted to wrap an arm around Shrapnel but cupping the heir close would shatter this perfect moment.

Of a prince, willingly coming and surrendering to his thief's command.

Besides, Bombshell was enjoying the Elder's horrified and sickened look towards the both of them.

"Goodbye, Elder; elder," Shrapnel announced, not even looking back at the frail puma, "I doubt we shall see each other again soon; soon. And when I return; return... it shall be with my heir at hand and salvation for my kin; kin."

When he...? Bombshell shuttered his optics in confusion, slow to realize that his new bondmate had already left the room. Realizing that things were no longer following his plan, the mech hurried to leave as well, calculating how this change might impact his own life.

"I don't remember agreeing to you coming with me..."

Shrapnel paused in the entry way, looking back at his mate. The look he gave was a flat one -a snideful one. Bombshell was tempted to growl at the look. He didn't like being dismissed, especially by young, self-righteous brats. But then Shrapnel turned his optics away.

"You vowed to give me an heir; heir," he said, straightening his robe. "Did you intend to leave me here while you returned to the city, like some stray whore; whore? Or are you so capable of giving up your hedonistic lifestyle to join me in my tribe; tribe?"

Bombshell was silent for a moment.

Truthfully, that _had_ been his plan but it seemed that such an option was not even going to be discussed by the prince.

"...you will not like what I do nor will you have any place to complain," the kittycon forewarned, "And if you come back with me, I expect to find you ready and waiting in my berth. Constantly." He grinned, confident that the idea of making the prince a pleasure 'bot would dissuade Shrapnel from pressing for this move.

Rather, the youngling turned his helm to face him; lavender optics narrowed playfully and a sneer growing quietly on his mouth. "You are now my mate; mate. Though made through the machinations of a wasted addict, there surely was a purpose in such an action passing; passing," Shrapnel stated, "The Deities are watching us, heretic; heretic. They know the role you shall play in both mine and my tribe's fate; fate."

Ah. Now that certainly explained why the smaller puma was being so agreeable in this whole affair. He should have been content that this meant Shrapnel would cooperate, but truthfully, having the tables flipped on them and him being the one made out like some god-directed empty doll was... _souring_ , to say the least.

Bombshell would have to rectify this somehow and enlighten the prince on who was truly in control of his thoughts and actions. "So...," he purred, grabbing Shrapnel and pushing him into the nearest wall, "You'll do whatever I say...? No matter the obscenity of it?"

Lavender optics hardened. "I am no whore; whore..."

Bombshell smirked, loving that look of indignation and pride. It was enough to get him to lick his lip components hungrily. "No, my prince," he husked, leaning down, "You are much... _much_... better than a simple whore..."

Shrapnel could not reply as his mouth was captured, large claws curling around his hips and aft possessively, keeping him trapped. Once he was certain he had ravaged the youngling's intakes straight from his vents, Bombshell drew back.

"Let's go see your 'people', shall we?," the kittycon suggested to the dazed prince.

Beautiful optics narrowed at him before Shrapnel shoved away with the softest of huffs; helm held high proudly and gait determined as he headed for the door.

**xxXxXxx**

The crowd surged forward to the dais, a stinking mass of food and energon and drink and fluids. They had barely a wink of rest since a few orns ago; too wired to recharge, too excited to give up the festivities. A royal only wed every few decades, after all. With laden arms and aching palms, the band picked up a rolling drumbeat, signaling their prince's approach. Amid all the excitement, the celebrators did not notice the cloaked figure that slipped amongst them.

Warily, the figure moved through the crowd, clutching their cloak tight around their shoulders; getting as close as he could... and dared to. As the drum roll came to a finish, lavender optics focused on the small puma coming into view on the dais.

The Deities be...

Shrapnel looked even more beautiful now than he did before. Did he see him? Among all these 'bots? The figure tried not to flinch as another mech stepped up to the podium, all scars and bulk, to a roaring cheer from the crowd. This stranger then took up position just behind Shrapnel's left-hand side -the rightful place of bondmates to the throne.

Lip component curled up and over a pair of fangs, the smallest hint of a growl escaping before it was silenced entirely. He, Kickback, had been the Chosen one -to bond and make his cousin happy. For stellar cycles that had been his Gods'-given destiny! Then suddenly, while out in the far woods for his final training, he was attacked... by his own kin.

The terror of such a betrayal had thankfully not rendered him meek; still, it had been a struggle to fend off five assailants by himself. All of whom he had grown up with as well. The knowledge that energon now stained his servos had almost deterred Kickback from returning. The murder of kinsmen was not a crime easily forgotten or forgiven -by Tribe or Deity- but the thought of his cousin had convinced him to make the long trek home.

...only to find this.

The confusion, anger, concern, suffering -all for nothing! For the very mech that had been his driving force had been traded off, to the slimy vendor he remembered from the city no less, claimed and already defiled.

The crowd babbled about him, not noticing the way their own kinsmech folded into himself, spark withering slowly into his chestplates.

Before him, Shrapnel spoke, strong and true, and not once did he denounce the scarred outsider that stood at attention up on the podium with him. In fact, the prince almost... praised him. Venting weakly, Kickback slowly shuffled back, trying to escape the tight crowd unnoticed. Even if he still wanted to barge forth and save his cousin from this ridiculous lie, such an act had been ripped from him completely.

He was cast out, dead to his kin, forgotten and of no significance any more to Shrapnel it was obvious. He had lost... Tears pricking at his optics, the youngling managed to turn away from the rest of the celebrators; missing their gasps and disbelieving optics as the prince announced his temporary departure.


	48. Blast Off and Cosmos VIII

**Title: White Room**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: Waiting to know what blocks a dream, could be the very thing that shatters it completely**

The waiting room was empty when they entered and remained such as the cycle continued onto the next. Magazines sat, old and tattered, on an end table abandoned, while perfectly poised and beaming pictures of sparklings smiled at them from every wall. The entire room felt like a poison and the last thing Blast Off wished to do was keep his bondmate here.

Glancing at the quiet pyrenees, the kittycon could see that his big, blue optics were glued to the pictures across from them. Cosmos' stiffness worried him more than he was comfortable with. Silently, Blast Off circled an arm around the astronomer, gently pulling him closer to his side. Cosmos shivered at the sudden touch, but he turned and curled into the siamese's side willingly; clinging to the other mech's shirt.

That... was at least better than him staring brokenly at pictures on the wall.

"Co-"

"Sir?"

Looking up, the kittycon stared coolly at the nurse, watching her fidget uncertainly. "U-umm...," plastering on a bright smile, the femme hugged her clipboard to her chestplates, gesturing them up to their pedes, "The vet is ready to see you now. Just this way please."

Blast Off nodded, turning to Cosmos, gently unfolding the other's tight fingers from his shirt. "Cosmos," he whispered, leaning closer to the astronomer, "It's time to see the vet..."

It took a few more astroseconds of stroking the pyrenees' ears before Cosmos finally lifted his helm, allowing himself to be led along, out of the waiting room and down the hall to one of the examination rooms. Cosmos' optics were still dim and he only looked up intermittently before glancing back down again. Blast Off took the opportunity to help the autodog up onto the berth, petting him softly again.

He was finally calming down when the vet strode in. "And how's our couple doing today?," the other autodog greeted cheerfully. The flat look from the siamese made the smaller mech pause.

"Uh... right," he continued after a moment, clearing his throat, "Well, thank you for allowing the nurses to take your energon samples. The results have just come back and I have to say, I have never seen such exceptional coding. Really. It's quite lovely."

The vet smiled but this news was hardly cause for celebration.

"...What about our reason for coming?," Blast Off pressed immediately. By the way Cosmos clutched his fingers, he knew that the autodog couldn't bear to sit here and dwaddle for much longer.

The other mech opened his mouth to speak but he paused, shuffling through his files distractedly. "W-well, before I discuss that, I'm afraid I must ask that you come with me, sir," he said, touching the datapad under his arm again. "We seem to be missing some necessary medical files."

The kittycon's optics narrowed slightly- he could distinguish an excuse easier than most assumed. But this was something to enquire further from the vet when not in Cosmos' presence. Stroking the pyrenees' ears and kissing his forehead one last time, Blast Off turned and followed the shorter mech out of the room, making sure to shut the door behind them. The vet barely had a chance to turn around before he was being backed into a wall; thin, grey optics glaring at him.

"You lied."

"U-uh, we-well," the mech gulped, holding up his servos weakly, "I d-didn't necessarily, I-i-" The siamese drew up to full height, looming over the vet. "I-i just th-thought it m-might be better to a-address this w-with you first a-and then with y-your permission, y-your b-bondmate!," the autodog quickly squeaked.

Blast Off's ears ticked back half a centimeter, but he did not change his stance. "Explain."

The smaller mech tried to gather his composure, before continuing. "S-see... your results are good. T-there's really n-nothing wrong with either of your energon levels or even your CNA coding..."

"... then why is there an issue with my bondmate carrying?" Blast Off demanded, getting impatient as the silence dragged on longer than he would of liked. The vet sighed.

"There is no problem with either of you medically... you're just... incompatible..." The autodog squeaked as he found himself backed tighter against the wall, trapped in the glare of a furious siamese. "I-i d-don't m-mean it to b-be rude," the smaller 'bot stammered quickly, blanching in terror, "I-it's ju-just a state of f-fact! A-autodog and k-kittycon c-coding differ a-and de-despite the t-turn of the l-last decade, c-coding d-does not ch-change a-as easily. M-many i-integrated co-couples are u-unable to m-make a new s-spark."

Grey claws flexed and the poor vet nearly fainted at the sight, but Blast Off merely withdrew; standing as tame as he had seemed beforehand. Still, it did not take away from the stiffness of his ears or the turmoil rolling behind his optics. Fidgeting nervously in place, the autodog decided to let the larger mech think as needed, without any interruption on his part.

"...clear us."

"W-what... wh-what, s-sir?," the vet squeaked, caught off-guard by the siamese's final answer.

Blast Off only glanced at the smaller 'bot quickly, before turning towards the examination room, where Cosmos still sat, waiting for him. "Give us the clear and excuse us," he repeated for the vet, "Do not mention to him your theories."

The vet thought to open his mouth in protest, but another look at the kittycon's claws deterred him from giving anything but a small squeak and a quick nod. Satisfied, Blast Off opened the door to the examination room and stepped inside. Anxious blue optics immediately snapped towards him, staring at him with a sort of desperation that had the siamese crossing the room and cupping the pyrenees' servos without hesitation.

"...w-where...?," Cosmos started weakly.

"Just out to the front desk," the kittycon replied, stroking a cheekplate, "There were some blanks on my paperwork apparently. I filled them out for the clinic's convenience." A lie. Just another lie...

"Y-yes, um," the vet spoke up, peeking around the pair. He smiled, wide and fake, datapad clutched once again in his servos. "S-sorry for the delay, but we really needed those documents. T-that'll allow us to go through both of your medical files completely and check to see if there are any anomalies."

The siamese gave the other autodog a cool glance.

"O-otherwise, y-you've bo-both got a good bill of h-health, s-so... um, j-just give it a-a little bit of t-time and I'm s-sure you'll both have y-your l-lil bundle soon. T-there's typically a f-few months wait period w-while a new couple's CNA b-becomes familiar with each other anyhow."

At the vet's quick but reasonable explanation, Blast Off returned his attention back to Cosmos, glad to find that the pyrenees had calmed- if only by half a fraction. Giving his bondmate's servo a comforting squeeze, he petted him again, gazing deeply into the bright orbs. "Everything is fine," he repeated in assurance. "We must only continue trying. As the vet says, very soon we may have our own sparkling on the way."

Cosmos said nothing as tears welled up in his optics, throwing himself at the siamese and burying his face into the other's chestplates with a shaky, but hopeful, vent. Silently, Blast Off continued his stroking as he cupped the astronomer closer; his optics fixed to the wall in a long, unreadable stare.

**Title: Measures**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: He'll do everything he can**

Humming softly under his intakes, Yoketron crossed the office; setting his cane to the side as he sat in his chair, nimble fingers already opening the first folder in a pile of them sitting atop his desk. The smile on the kai ken's face grew a few inches even as he went to work, stopping his humming as he set aside the one folder and grabbed another.

"You may enter, Blast Off," he called to the door, not even lifting his optics from the reports.

Quietly, the door opened, the looming siamese entering.

Smiling politely, Yoketron closed the folder he was currently browsing through, gesturing for the mercenary to sit as he set everything to the side. "I'm very glad you came to visit me, though you're not one usually for it," he said cheerfully, "So I suppose this is important. How may I help you?"

Surprisingly, Blast Off took the autodog's offer for a seat and that brought the older mech to a complete pause. "...Blast Off?"

"I must ask for your permission, Yoketron, sir," the kittycon replied, staring straight into his superior's optics. "I would like to commission Brainstorm for a project."

The kai ken cycled an intake for a moment, before folding his servos atop the desk. "You know it's not appropriate for other mercenaries to make requests of each other, especially those in our research department. Only-"

"Only commissions from outside clients are accepted, and after they have been reviewed thoroughly by yourself or Soundblaster," Blast Off cut him off. "...My apologies for the interruption." Yoketron waved off the kittycon's words.

"No matter. Please, continue. I know there is something more you wish to say," he pressed gently.

At the other's permission, the mercenary nodded; but instead of speaking, he pulled a clean, white envelope out of his pocket and held it out for the intelligence officer to take. Shuttering his optics once in mild surprise, Yoketron did so, sliding one slender finger under the envelope's lip and breaking the seal.

"...this...," the kai ken began, reading the single sheet within. He paused, glancing at Blast Off, before smiling sympathetically at his subordinate. "I understand completely," he said, setting the letter down, "I am sure your sire will have a few words about this decision, but I will not force you to stay. He means a lot to you, this Cosmos, does he not?"

It did not surprise him that Yoketron knew his bondmate's name. "Yes," Blast Off answered. "Which is why I also require your permission." He took out another envelope this time. "My commission."

Accepting the second letter, the autodog opened it and read it quickly, before nodding. "I shall inform both Soundblaster and Brainstorm of this request. I will also make sure that it is kept of utmost secrecy, for your own privacy," the intelligence officer added. "I know you don't wish for this matter to be a topic of discussion among your peers."

Again, the siamese nodded crisply, reassuring that his superior was correct in his assumptions. Standing up, the grey mech bowed a couple inches toward the kai ken respectively; straightening up as Yoketron rose to copy him in return.

"Remember: You are always welcome back here, no matter the scenario," Yoketron told him gently, smiling again. "Take care, Blast Off. May you and Cosmos be happy for many years to come."

"Thank you... sensei...," the kittycon mumbled back as he turned to leave.

**Title: Secrets and hopes**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: An unsolvable problem causes results he never expected**

"Good evening," the siamese greeted, bending low to kiss his bondmate's cheekplate.

Cosmos smiled slowly, but it still did not reach the autodog's optics fully, and Blast Off was resigned into pulling away. There was nothing he could do, he understood, though he had tried the best that he could to cheer the other up. The lack of results as the orns dragged on, becoming weeks, then decacyles, kept the astronomer's spirits low.

Blast Off had never known a 'bot to become so distraught and withdrawn over a matter such as this... and it hurt him to see his bondmate quietly dying within and be so helpless at the same time.

Deciding not to mention it (seeing as Cosmos did not even know that by medical standards, they were incompatible), the siamese helped the smaller mech to set the table for dinner; pressing gently that the autodog sit while he brought them their food. The pyrenees' immediate compliance was even further worrisome but Blast Off brushed it aside.

Right now, trying to squash the guilt he felt as he broke a pill capsule over their dinner, took all of his concentration. But it would be worth it -it would have to be, he told himself, mixing the white powder into the pasta sauce. Trusting in Brainstorm, in his wacky concoctions, was the only option open to Blast Off at the moment, because it gave them (him and Cosmos) the only hope of making the pyrenees' happy again. Even as slight a chance it proposed.

And he would make the autodog happy, the siamese decided, turning and carrying their dinner to the table.

Even if it meant he had to lie and keep further secrets from the one person he wished he'd never have to...

**Title: Support**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: Yoketron was right**

Blast Off had just set down the tray of tea and snacks for the two autodogs, before his sire came into the room, tersely excusing them and yanking the younger kittycon into the kitchen. "What is the meaning of this?," Onslaught hissed, making sure to keep his tone down even as he shoved his son back against the cupboards.

Not a single emotion crossed the siamese's face. "I believe you will need to elaborate," he replied flatly.

Optics narrowing a tad, Onslaught straightened, arms folded over his chestplates as he stared his son down. "I mean," he continued stiffly, upper lip component curling slightly, "What's this I hear that you're quitting?!"

"Retiring," Blast Off corrected, posture not changing in the slightest.

The serval snarled quietly, stepping up into the other's space once more. "I'm not one to judge what decisions you make in life but when my son -my fellow comrade!- decides to leave my corp, I'd prefer to hear about it first. And not from the ageing autodog pushing reports!"

"I didn't realize I needed your approval beforehand," the younger kittycon retorted sharply, an ear giving the smallest twitch in irritation.

"You don't!," Onslaught stumbled to say, torn between trying to get his point across and keep his volume down at the same time, "You just- That is... You've always been so goal-orientated and reasonable. You followed my path into the military, and then under Yoketron's services of your own free will, and you've been a great asset since I just-" The serval paused, vocalizer clicking shortly as he came to a momentary loss of words. "I just... why are you doing this now?"

Before either could say anything else, there came a gentle peal of laughter from the living room; Brawl's excited chatter almost roaring over Skydive's and Cosmos' softer, gentler tones. Glancing at the doorway for a moment, the green mech turned his attention back to his son, a short vent escaping him.

"Because of him... right?," he guessed.

A short nod from the other kittycon.

"Could...," Onslaught sighed again, this time more wearily. "Could you at least tell me why? I don't ask much from you usually."

Respect was the only reason he deigned to break his silence on this matter. "To grant him what he wishes," Blast Off answered. "A home -similar in some aspects like yours. To accomplish that, one or the other must be sacrificed. My services to Yoketron were deemed the lesser priority."

There was no way to contest his reasoning -at least, not without being overtly selfish. This was a fact that even Onslaught could acknowledge and his sire vented heavily, shoulders slumping a little in a show of defeat. "Very well...," he conceded, locking gazes with his son. "You know I never meant to imply that you were doing this without any actual reasoning behind it. I just... I just wanted to make sure that this was the path you really wanted to take."

"...you really do love him," the serval added after a moment. "I didn't know this is what you wanted but I understand the urge to make him happy. I wish you both the best, my son, and I will stand by you, no matter what."

At the words of support, Blast Off inclined his helm respectively towards his sire. Gruffing in slight discomfort as the silence dragged on between them, Onslaught nodded in return and slapped the siamese's shoulder in forced camaraderie before heading towards the kitchen door.

Just in time because Brawl seemed to have gotten into trouble, causing the whole house to shake momentarily.

**Title: Test**   
**Rating: PG**   
**Summary: The pills have run out**

"D-do... do we h-have to-" Cosmos stammered off, taking an anxious step out of the bathroom.

Blast Off looked at him, setting the box down onto the counter before fully facing his bondmate. "It's just a test," he soothed as gently as possible, following the autodog out of the bathroom; one servo sliding down an arm and cupping the other's servo. "Just a test."

Cosmos' optics glittered with growing coolant as he stared up into the kittycon's face, little trembles wracking his frame. He was afraid -it was more than obvious- but what could the larger mech say? He didn't know for how long the astronomer had been keeping it a secret that he wanted to start a family, taking these at-home tests himself, only to be met with disappointment after crushing disappointment.

Still, it was time to try again.

The pills Blast Off had commissioned for had been completed the other orn. Brainstorm's instructions suggested doing a spark-test first before proceeding with another decacycle's worth of doses -and when the crazy scientist included directions with his products, you followed them. No ands, ifs, or buts. So the siamese had bought the test from the store, came home and now was in the middle of trying to convince Cosmos into taking it.

"It will be alright," the kittycon tried to soothe, still cupping the pyrenees' servo. "We have connected multiple times since, as per the vet's recommendation, and it is a suitable time to test for any changes. Just one test- I promise."

For the longest moment, Cosmos did not reply, but eventually the autodog looked down at their joined servos; ears flattening along his helm a tad as he slowly nodded. Blast Off kissed the anxious mech in reward for his bravery before gently leading them both into the bathroom, touching the box waiting for them on the counter.

"I-i...," the astronomer said, pulling away a little. His trembling fingers took the box on their own. "I-i can d-do it. B-by myself."

The kittycon would not deny that he was surprised, yet there was strange feeling growing in his chestplates. A sense of pride. Bending down, Blast Off kissed his bondmate once more, stroking an ear before respectively leaving the bathroom to allow the other some privacy. Keeping an optic on the clock, he waited, and a few kliks later, the bathroom door opened again.

"...is there a problem?," the siamese asked, taking a step toward the quiet pyrenees.

"...I-i... I can't l-look at it...," Cosmos whispered back, fingers tightening on the doorknob. "I c-can't..."

Blast Off took a moment to process what had just been said to him. When he was certain that he had actually understood what the smaller mech had told him, he nodded, first leading the shaking autodog away from the bathroom and making sure he was settled comfortably in the living room before heading back himself. The little stick waited on the counter beside its torn-apart packaging and unfolded instructions, face-down, as if it had been thrown there haphazardly.

Which it probably had been.

Still, it held all their hopes and possibly more. Pinching the plastic delicately between two claws, the kittycon turned it over onto its face, studying the symbols staring back at him. One quick check at the instructions confirmed his thoughts.

His pedes made the slightest of sounds as he headed for the living room and his waiting bondmate; blue optics turning up to him, flared slightly in terror. Slowly, Blast Off presented the stick to the autodog, his face a blank canvas. Cosmos looked even more troubled by the sight of it.

"I-i don-"

"You're sparked."

The pyrenees' ears lifted in shock. "W-wha..."

The brown mech reached forward with his free servo, cupping Cosmos' cheekplate and planting a soft kiss on his mouth. "Congratulations," he repeated against the other's lip components, "You carry our soon-to-be sparkling."

Optics overflowed with coolant before the disbelieving and torn face was pressed into the siamese's neck cables, arms wrapping as far around the broad shoulders as they could. Blast Off set the spark-test to the side, picking up the autodog and settling him in his lap as he claimed the smaller mech's seat for himself.


	49. Lockdown and Swindle III

**Title: Lockdown and Swindle III**   
**Rating: T**

Waking up with a large, too-warm, wasted-energon smelling mass practically smothering him to death was too familiar a feeling that the devon rex was easily made nauseous by the fact.

Actually... scratch that. That wasn't what was making him sick to his tanks and he had to purge. NOW.

With a desperate wriggle and a non-too-gentle shove and slap to the albino's faceplates, Swindle was bouncing and twisting over in the berth; managing in his hectic style to get free just enough to empty his tanks right over the side of the berth... and straight onto his floor and a pile of what looked like clothing. Fantastic...

Growling lowly, Lockdown pushed himself up, rubbing at the budding ache between his optics. "...the frag?," he grumbled, jaw slowly working. "I was sleepin'... Where the frag am I anyhow?"

The entrepreneur purged one last time before groggily trying to sit up, hitting the tiger limply with the same servo he wiped his mouth with. "Y...y-you're in... m...ngh... b-berth. I-idiot!," Swindle forced through a sour glossa, "S-stupid, drunk... a-aft..."

Lockdown leaned casually back against the headboard, scratching at his chin. "Ah...," he said slowly, optics still dim with sleepiness. "Well, that explains why I feel good." He focused on the devon rex as he retched quickly over the side again. "Ya stink...," he added.

"F-frag... n-nngh... you!"

"I'd say we already did that last night, babe," the tiger chuckled, servo sliding under the pillows idly. When Swindle had straightened up again, it was to find that the other mech's searching had unearthed a flask from beneath the sheets. A flask, that once the cap was popped, exhumed a horribly, rich scent of cheap but strong high-grade.

"Y...y-you have more of that stuff?!," Swindle shuttered his optics in surprise, torn between annoyance and want. Lockdown must of caught the look, because a smug smirk drew across his lip components immediately after and he gave the flask an extra little shake tauntingly.

"What? Thirsty, doll?," came the greasy words, the albino leaning forwards, breathing into the other's face with his rancid breath. The flask glimmered like a star just off to the side of the tiger's face, drawing in the devon rex's grasping attention. "I don't mind sharing... for a price."

At the word 'price', black ears immediately perked. Purple optics narrowing with a glare, Swindle leaned far back away from his companion, hissing a little. "You sleazy, no-good, dirty, cheating fr-"

"Just call it a 'business transaction'," Lockdown pushed, shaking the flask again.

"That's not business, that's extortion!," the entrepreneur snapped back.

The tiger shrugged, his greasy smirk fading a bit. "As if there's any difference in yer line of work. 'Sides, I ain't ever heard ya complain 'bout suckin' spike for a lil' trade-off before."

As disgusting as it was -and as much as he'd probably come to regret it later- Swindle reached over the side of the berth, scooped up a handful of his own vomit and threw it at Lockdown. Just when the larger mech went to finish the flask. "GET OUT!," Swindle literally shrieked, clawing quickly at the thug, before scrambling a safe distance away from his roaring partner, "GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!"

Thankfully for the devon rex, Lockdown was quick to comply; albeit snarling and cursing up a vicious storm as he marched from the room, heading directly for the washroom.

**xxXxXxx**

_Having a deal go south was not in his plans. Getting backed into the end of a dingy alley by said-companion, plus three of his buddies, was definitely not part of Lockdown's guide-to-successful-thughood. Of course, what did he expect when some whimpering stray approached him out of nowhere to pull off your average heist?_

" _So... finish a job, and then ya get yer loser buddies to beat up the brains behind the plan and split the profits?," the tiger asked, keeping his servos loose by his sides as the other kittycons tried to back him further into the wall. "Real strategic there, afts."_

_The tabby he'd made the deal with chuckled nasally, swinging his two switchblades easily. "I don't see any holes in that plan. In fact, it's worked at least a dozen times over," he boasted. "'Sides, you're not the smartest apple in the barrel now if you fell for such an 'obvious trap'."_

" _Maybe not," Lockdown shrugged. "At least I don't look like some ugly aftwipe, sucking from his momma's valve for too long." Well, if you couldn't beat them, at least insult the idiots until you lost all feeling in your glossa._

_Smirking, the thug couldn't help but be amused that his opponents immediately got riled up -especially the thin geek leading them. Holding up his one good servo, the albino crooked a finger to the other kittycons, daring them to attack. Raising their crude weapons, the gang let out their best war cries, charging the tiger._

_Immediately, the crack of a few shots rang out and mechs were tripping over themselves; screaming, yelling, bleeding and scrambling to get away, if they didn't drop to the floor right then and there. And that included Lockdown. Punching the one slagger that stumbled too close for the fun of it, the thug turned to see where the gunfire had come from and whom. He was somewhat startled when his optics landed on a tan youngling standing confidently in the middle of the alley, gun held knowingly in his servos; unfazed as the other kittycons ran past him fearfully._

_What the slag was a fresh-faced punk doing in back street alleys like this?_

_Lockdown looked the tiny kittycon over -the one that had arguably saved his life- and felt the corners of his lip components twist downwards in a deep scowl. "Just what the frag do ya think yer doing?," he snarled, smacking the dust from his leather coat._

_The devon rex returned his look. "Saving your aft, you nimrod."_

" _I didn't ask for ya too," Lockdown replied, picking up the spiked bat one of his foolish attackers had dropped. He gave it a few, experimental swings. "And if I were ya, I'd watch that lil' mouth of yers." The tiger turned to the youngling, unsurprised to see the pistol now pointed at him and the smaller mech a safe distance away from him._

" _...I won't hurt ya."_

" _Forgive me if I don't believe you," the devon rex shot back. Lockdown canted his helm at the youngling. Smart answer on his part._

" _Now... I'd like to offer you a proposition," the short kittycon was saying next. The thug snapped to attention at that, glaring. "You give me a place to stay for a while -protection- and I'll make sure you're well compensated."_

" _I don't get my kicks from fragging underage brats," Lockdown spat, turning away from the youngling. "Why don't you run along back to your carrier."_

" _T-th-that's-," the other kittycon sputtered, "T-that's not what I meant at all! I meant p-payment, connections! Cash!"_

_The albino found his path out of the alleyway blocked by the short mech; the gun foolishly lowered in the devon rex's ire. "I'm not- acck!" Taking advantage of the opportunity presented, the thug shoved the unsuspecting youngling into the adjacent wall, twisting the gun from his servos. Purple optics flared up at him in fright; finally the slagging cub knew his place._

" _I could break yer face in and leave ya here for some scumbag to pick up for trade...," the larger mech said lowly, leaning in more, "But I ain't actually that cruel, kid. I just want to head home and I don't take to kindly to being hounded." Straightening up, Lockdown turned around for the exit once more._

" _B-but... but I-i do have cash!," the unknown youngling pressed, bending quickly to pick up the gun. "And I can get more of it! Fast too! I won't be a bother and I promise any business to be made I'll give you a fair percentage of -I just need a safe place to stay at for a bit until my papers clear with municipality and I can get my own apartment!"_

" _Business?," the tiger scoffed, "What the slag do you know about 'business', kid?"_

" _I know that if one's smart, ruling any market in this sector of Iacon -even outside the city- is possible. Narcotics, erotica, assassination... It's all a business. And every business needs a head to control it and others to connect in opposing trades."_

_Slowing down, Lockdown looked to the youngling, finding him standing back in the alley. No fear, no hesitation anywhere to be found on his frame or face. This stranger knew what he was talking about... and he felt no qualms at all that the work he was determined to involve himself in was shady and more than illegal. Something akin to respect came to the thug and he remained paused for a few astroseconds longer, thinking._

" _Well then...," he began to smirk, "Maybe we can work out an arrangement after all. 'Sides, who knows," the tiger shrugged, waving for the shocked kittycon to come forward, "This could develop into an interesting partnership."_

_Shoulders rolling in return, the youngling drew up to Lockdown's side. "Perhaps. Swindle," he introduced, holding out his servo politely._

_The taller mech chuckled, slinging an arm around the devon rex, ignoring his servo entirely. "Lockdown, kid."_

**xxXxXxx**

Tea Time. That's essentially what his life had been reduced to. Spending the last few, precarious weeks at his sire's house: pestered by Brawl for his roundness, anxious about having another run-in with that psychopath lynx, playing pleasantries with his new step-mom and step-siblings -and all for the sake of keeping Onslaught off his tail as much as possible.

"Everyone," Blast Off said, his perfectly even-toned vocalizer still managing to rise over the chatter of the living room, "We have an announcement to make."

Skydive mercifully turned his attention away from the devon rex, allowing Swindle to vent quietly under his intakes. Any more questions about how excited he was to be a carrier and the entrepreneur thought he might shoot himself. Turning bored optics to the fidgeting Cosmos and his dull brother standing beside him, Swindle hoped this afternoon would speed along faster, so Onslaught would finally take him back to his apartment and his less-torturous-than-this co-habitation with Lockdown.

"I-i-i...," Cosmos stammered, trying to look at everyone now watching him but unable to keep his chin up. A shy, uncertain smile grew and shrank on his lip components, back and forth. "I-i... I-i'm sp-sparked. B-blast O-off and m-me are g-going to h-have a bornling o-of our own!"

There was a stunted sort of silence that filled the room after that statement, interrupted only by Brawl knocking over the tea tray in clumsy absent-mindedness, Motormaster deciding to squeal viciously because he was being ignored and Skydive applauding, saying, "Oh, congratulations Cosmos! Blast Off! That's wonderful news!"

Holding onto the wriggling Motormaster with one servo, Onslaught cleared his vocalizer a tad, trying to smile at the pair. "Um... yes! That's wonderful news, Cosmos," the serval finally managed, without sounding one bit sarcastic. "This calls for even more celebration, I think. Sons, would you be so kind as to go make another pot of tea- Brawl, keep playing with your blocks."

"But why do I-" Swindle scowled as Skydive immediately changed seats to sit with Cosmos, clasping the other autodog's servo and breaking off into excited chatter; giving his sire full permission to ignore the devon rex without having to excuse himself. Huffing and puffing (more out of the effort of getting up with an unborn spark kicking and rolling around within him), the entrepreneur grudgingly followed the siamese into the kitchen to adhere to Onslaught's orders.

"...so you actually sparked the nerd, huh?," the smaller kittycon started putting the kettle on to boil. Swindle wasn't all that surprised when he got nothing back in response; his brother pulling clean teacups and plates out of the cupboard. A few kliks later, the pot began to whistle, signalling that both the water and his annoyance had hit its boiling point.

"I can't believe you would want kids," the devon rex continued grumbling, uncaring that water splashed on the counter from the kettle as he poured the hot water into the teapot the other kittycon set out for him, "I don't even want this kid."

"You should not speak like that," Blast Off coolly chastised, wiping up the spills. Swindle gave him a look of disgust, before moving the cups onto the tray.

"Don't tell me what to say," he snarled lowly. "You're not my sire, and you're certainly not my carrier. Slag, we can't even be _sure_ that you're my brother... Don't know why Onslaught even bothered to keep us when that lying glitch ended up-"

"Whether," the siamese cut in sharply, his tone a notch higher than the smaller kittycon's in rapidly deteriorating patience, "Our energon ties are questionable or not, it does not change the fact that we are his sons. He loved her, he accepted us as his own and he raised us even afterwards. That makes him our sire; that makes us brothers."

Swindle pouted as Blast Off carried on where he left off, setting the milk and sugar bowls onto the tray and even grabbing the plate of biscuits that Onslaught had set aside. Aggravatingly, the devon rex took hold of the secondary plate of goodies for Brawl, turning away from the other mech. "Still, don't see why you wanted a sparkling as well. Since when have you liked kids?," he grumbled.

His brother followed him to the door with the tea. "Things change."

Swindle snorted at the cryptic answer, trying his hardest to keep from rolling his optical sensors. "Yeah, sure, and I'm the poster-mech of the excited carrier." The grey mech did not respond to his last comment as they left the room.

**xxXxXxx**

It was almost dark when he was finally taken back home, and to moderate silence and peace no less. Surprised, Swindle stood in the entry hallway of his apartment, staring in at the kittycon watching t.v quietly.

"...you're... clean," the devon rex noted, slowly walking forwards. He looked around the living room (which was equally as tidy) before turning his attention back to Lockdown. "Got some more piss-grade there too, huh?"

The tiger glanced at him, lifting the remote and actually turning the volume down a couple more notches, taking a swig from the bottle he held in his other servo. "Yeah. Have to say, your sire can be fairly accommodatin' to his hostages," he replied. "'Course, I gotta play 'nice' or whatnot, but this ain't a bad trade-off."

Snorting, Swindle turned to head down the hall to his room; exhaustion after the orn's events finally setting into his joints. But a simple "Hey" cut through his daydreams of a hot bath and snuggling under his sheets, causing him to face the thug once more. "Hey...," Lockdown repeated, "Why dontcha come sit? Ya gotta keep up with the news, right?"

Keeping up with the news -actually, knowing what it would be ahead of times and everything else in between the lines the media fed the general population- was indeed vital to his job, but the smaller mech's optics could only focus on the hook gently tapping the couch seat beside the tiger in mute suspicion. Lockdown caught the look and his jaw locked in an equally deep scowl as his companion.

"Oh fer the love of... Would ya just git yer aft over here?," he grumbled, turning his optics back to the television. "Frag. Grow up, ya brat."

"I'm not a brat!," Swindle returned. That didn't stop his pedes from stubbornly taking him to the couch, slowly sitting down to avoid aggravating his aching hip joints. The larger kittycon didn't say anything; merely nudged the t.v remote closer to the devon rex and drank his booze.

Despite hating what was on the screen (Cage wrestling? Really? Didn't Lockdown have better tastes than this?), the entrepreneur didn't move to change the channel. After all, he wasn't much one for cable to begin with and exhaustion was still tugging a little around his optics as he melded comfortably back against the couch cushions.

"Ya're awfully quiet there, doll..."

Swindle snorted softly, trying to keep his optics online. "'Course I am... idiot... I'm tired. And sparked with your kid."

Something heavy slithered up just behind the devon rex, and if he'd been more aware, the tan mech would have realized that Lockdown now rested his arm just behind his helm. Of course, such a fact went straight over his weary processor, and soon enough Swindle wasn't even able to pay attention to the t.v anymore.

"Ya get tired often there, Swin...," continued the tiger's casual rumble, "Gettin' round as a pumpkin too. How much longer this gonna last for, huh?"

He was barely even awake at this point. Struggling to decipher the words in his rapidly deteriorating conscious, the entrepreneur mumbled, "D...don't...know..." to the thug, before gravity and nature slid him sideways and into recharge. "...so...sleepy..."

It was warm where his helm landed; warm and thrumming gently. Limp against the softly rising wall, Swindle groggily buried his face into the comforting scent he could pick up; a dying purr escaping him for a few astroseconds as the tip of an ear was tenderly rubbed, sending him the last of the way into a deep, restful recharge.

**xxXxXxx**

Lockdown shifted slightly in his sleep, finding his recharge disrupted by the white noise sputtering in the background and something damp along his leg. Scowling, the thug slowly onlined his optics, visual pixels taking a moment to readjust to the glaring white coming off the t.v -the only light currently filling the room.

"...swin?," he mumbled groggily, turning his helm to the flattened ears he could just see twitching intermittently on the edge of his peripheral. Swindle still laid against him, right where the devon rex had fallen asleep earlier, but he was curled more into himself; fingers clutched in the other's shirt and soft whimpers escaping him in recharge. And the way he squirmed only brought more attention to the wetness that had seeped into the leg of the tiger's pants.

Cursing, Lockdown dropped the bottle he still miraculously held in his servo, grabbing hold of the entrepreneur, wary of his hook. "Frag... Swin? Swindle?," he called, tone getting stronger with every syllable, "Swin, what's wrong? C'mon; wake up!"

The thug felt a slow panic start to take hold as Swindle continued to remain mostly unresponsive. If he had managed to stab the devon rex with his hook while he'd been passed out, like the smaller mech kept saying he would if he didn't take the slagging thing off before recharge, then he'd be in a hell of a lot more trouble come dawn. "Swin! Hey, Swin! Doll... dollface...?"

Lockdown's helm snapped up as the front door suddenly swung inwards; the serval from before marching past the threshold in a quick, even pace. He was accompanied by a taller, grey siamese that the tiger had never seen prior.

"Move," Onslaught commanded as he drew up to the couch, his servos already grasping Swindle under the arms and lifting him away from the thug. Quietly, Lockdown let the other be taken away, his servo and hook held up placatingly. Not even giving him a second glance (the rude fragger), the green mech immediately began to inspect the devon rex.

To the albino's great relief there wasn't any energon on Swindle whatsoever, though it seemed the wetness he'd woken up to had come from the smaller mech wetting himself.

"...d...d-dad...?," Swindle uttered weakly, dim optics trying to focus on the larger kittycon.

"Hush, son," the serval replied, almost gently. "Your water's broke; you're going into labour. We're going to take you to the hospital now and everything will be okay. Just bear the pain a little bit longer, understood soldier?"

The entrepreneur hissed sourly at his sire's words (or maybe it was out of pain), servos clutching his belly as he was lifted up into the other's arms. "N...n-not a... s-soldier..."

"That's it. Stay tough," Onslaught said, shifting so that Swindle was held securely in his arms before turning his attention to the siamese. "Blast Off, bring the punk. He should be present during this miraculous moment."

Dusky, blue optics drilled holes into the thug's helm, as if daring him to try and disobey. Lockdown glared back but didn't attempt to move or even vocally protest as the serval's companion drew up to his side. Nodding, Onslaught left, leaving the two kittycons alone for a few moments.

"... ya gonna grab me or something?," the tiger grumbled, glancing up at the towering siamese. "Got cuffs? Baton?"

Grey optics slowly shuttered back at him coolly. "I have no need of such barbaric things," Blast Off answered softly. "You will come cooperatively." Lockdown wanted to laugh at that... but the stranger was correct. He would come and he would behave. Getting up, the thug walked forward, uncomfortably aware of the silent mech following in his pedes behind him.

**xxXxXxx**

Several cycles later, the screaming finally finished and the nurses began to tidy up the horror picture show that Lockdown had just been forced to endure, front-row seat. Ear twitching, the thug sat mutely while his warden, Onslaught, talked to one of the vets present; taking the bornling from the other mech's servos and cradling it easily in one arm. He barely responded when he was nudged next.

"I'd look up, if I were you cub," the serval commanded with little patience. "Unless you're enjoying the view."

At the poorly-veiled threat, Lockdown tore his optics away from the devon rex slumped tiredly in the medical berth, scowling up at the green mech. Onslaught, of course, did not seem perturbed by the thug's ire and instead wiggled a finger gently into the bundle of blankets he held. "Another grandson... A shame it's not a femme, but perhaps it's for the best," he said aloud, casually talking to no one in particular. "Lil' cub looks like he'll grow to be a good, strong mech."

"Oh...," the serval vented next, a jeering smirk growing on his lip components, "And would you look at that. He's got a striking resemblance to his sire."

Lockdown would never admit that he felt his ears and tail stiffen with dread as Onslaught lowered the bundle down to his level; making sure that the tiger could clearly see the bornling swaddled within. Bright, red optics shuttered back at him in quiet study just as he studied the mechling in return. With the exception of that fanged mouth and his colouration, the bornling definitely was the spitting image of him -and Lockdown was even more loathe to admit that to anyone.

"Still think he's not yours?," Onslaught poked cruelly.

Scowling, the albino turned his helm away, doing his best to ignore the triumphant smirk the other kittycon bore. "I ain't stickin' 'round," he grumbled, "I'm no parent."

"No, you're not," the green mech returned, straightening up and handing the bornling off to one of the nurses waiting by patiently. "I won't even force you back to the apartment with my son." That caught the thug's attention. Meeting his incredulous gaze with a hard one of his own, Onslaught continued, "But don't think for a moment that I won't be keeping tabs on you. Whatever money he needs, whatever assistance or when he needs a babysitter, you will be there to provide -or I'll make certain you don't get very far in this lifetime."

This was a threat that he wouldn't take lightly, but one that the other kittycon was determined to not let show bothered him. Sniffing in disdain, Lockdown rose to his pedes, moving past the serval and for the door. He paused only for a moment to look back at the exhausted Swindle -now recharging peacefully again with the help of some heavy painkillers- before he left entirely; shoving all thoughts of his associate and newborn from his processor.


	50. Family Affairs

**C.M.D: This is the final chapter to Ears and Tails. A lot of these stories, and newer characters, are available in the sister fic Tooth and Claw, which is still a work in progress. I hope you enjoyed what you've read thus far and look forward to seeing you all in the next fic!**

**Title: Family Affairs**   
**Rating: T**   
**Summary: A memory lost in time**

He remembered when the fights had started.

Brawl was just born when his momma started to frown a lot more, and would get angry every couple orns, for no reason at all. Not knowing what else to do, the little siamese played with his baby brother, trying to keep him entertained and unaware of the yelling happening in the next room. After a few decacyles, everything went quiet and Blast Off believed for a second that things would be okay.

Three stellar cycles later, Vortex was born. The yelling started again, along with smashing and the throwing of things. Many nights, his papa tried to calm momma down, but she refused to be tamed and things escalated into one giant screaming match. Usually these fights happened in Vortex's room. Blast Off spent many nights awake, trying to whisper fairytales and kind words into little Brawl's ears, stroking the trembling sparkling's helm repeatedly in comfort, while he listened to his youngest brother scream helplessly from his crib from down the hall.

Life got harder.

Blast Off became the one to take care of his two little brothers after he discovered that his momma had abandoned tiny Vortex in the bathtub, leaving the bornling to almost drown to death before the siamese had intervened. He was honestly afraid when his momma's belly got swollen again a couple months later.

He did not want a new baby brother or sister to be brought into all of this.

The fighting got worse as papa refused to let momma kill the new spark. Blast Off heard from one of their screaming matches. It was frightening, watching the two people who had given him life act like this, especially since papa loved momma so much... But he was only a little mech and none of them would listen to him. When they fought, they didn't care about anyone else.

Swindle was born, healthy and happy, and that upset Blast Off. He wasn't sure if he could protect his new baby brother from danger. Momma grew angrier and had to be watched at all times. Papa had taken to physically locking her within her own house, making sure that the femme would feed and take care of her bornling. With Swindle always in her clutches, there was nothing the siamese could do.

He felt almost happy when he saw his momma dropping Swindle into his playpen carelessly one orn, before rushing and grabbing a suitcase. Papa had to leave for a few kliks and momma used that time to pack some things, before she broke one of the windows and crawled out around the glass. She disappeared into a shiny, red car with a young, muscular kittycon, driving away with a squeal of tires and no backwards glance.

Swindle was four years old, Vortex five and Brawl eight when momma left them for good.

Blast Off was sixteen when he told their papa what happened and watched for the first time ever as tears fell from the tough mech's optics. He'd never felt so small as he did then.


End file.
